


I Gave You All

by Wolfcry22



Series: StarBound & StarFire [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anger Management, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Codependent Winchesters (Supernatural), Coughing, Dean Winchester Has Anger Issues, Dean Winchester Has PTSD, Death, Delusions, Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Emotionally Repressed Winchesters (Supernatural), F/M, Fever, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Fluff in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heaven, Hell, Hellhounds, Hopeless Dean Winchester, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Loss, Loss of Trust, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Mythical Beings & Creatures, Nightmares, Overprotective Dean Winchester, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Winchesters (Supernatural), Sam Winchester Attempts the Trials of Hell, Sam Winchester Has PTSD, Scared Dean Winchester, Sick Character, Sick Sam Winchester, Sickfic, Trials, Whump, Wolf Pack, Wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28232397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfcry22/pseuds/Wolfcry22
Summary: Rasplin hears a cry for his help and it’s one that he can’t ignore. (Continuation of StarBound & StarFire verse story)
Series: StarBound & StarFire [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1801441
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. Call From Below

**Author's Note:**

> As promised this is going to be another story and a sequel to StarBound that takes place during Sam’s Trials. This story will contain violence, possible disturbing themes, and strong language so please be aware when reading. I hope you all enjoy!

Rasplin hunkered down, underbelly almost grazing the ground. His eyes were narrowed to slits while his mouth watered. His gaze locked on the hare that nibbled an exposed clump of ferns a few tail-lengths in front of him. Snow had fallen the night before in StarBound and had left the hunting grounds coated in a thin layer of sludge. It had made tracking difficult, but Rasplin had managed to find a snow hare a short distance from his den. The hare was one of the first filling pieces of prey that he had found and he wasn't about to do anything to jeopardize this catch. 

The hare's ears pivoted on it's head, black nose twitching madly at the end of the hare's face. It turned, catching a whiff of Wolvy.

Rasplin exploded forward, hind legs propelling him into the air and front paws outstretched. He landed surprisingly gingerly, breaking out into a run with ears pinned against his head and jaws parted to allow the scent of hare to overwhelm him and give him the last burst of speed that he needed. 

The hare was only able to take one wayward hop before Rasplin was upon him. The large muscular Wolvy landed with his paws planted firmly on either side of his prey. His muzzle shot down, his teeth sinking deep into the hare's throat. Blood spurted into his mouth as he felt the windpipe snap. The hare gave one final twitch before falling limp at his paws.

Rasplin set his prey down, a look of triumph shinning in his eyes. He licked the dripping blood from his lips, savoring the salty flavor. 

"Thank you StarBound for this prey," whispered Rasplin. It was a sentiment that he didn't always remember, but his former mate, Meadowslip, had been very persistent that they thank StarBound for every blessing they stowed upon them. This being the first sustainable prey that Rasplin had caught the past moon, he was more than willing to indulge in a quick thanks. 

Rasplin's mouth watered tantalizing. He was just about to tear a chunk of flesh and swallow it down when he felt a slight prodding in his mind. 

"Rasplin, if you're listening, I need your help."

Rasplin's head shot up in alarm. He stood protectively over his prey, a growl rolling in the back of his throat. "Who's there," he snapped.

"I know that you're probably busy fighting a Hellhound or something, but Sammy and I really need you. It's bad, man, and you're the only one else that I can think of to call for help. Please. We need you."

"Dean?" Rasplin titled his head in confusion. 

It had been a while since he had thought about the eldest Winchester with a fierce attitude and complete disregard for rules. He had reminded Rasplin a little of himself and that had rubbed his fur the wrong way. However, after getting to know Dean and his younger brother Sam, Rasplin had learned that they weren't so different from any other Wolvy in StarBound. They were fighting a war they didn't fully understand to help those around them that they didn't know. Their paths had come together when Rasplin's brother-in-law, Oliver, had been killed on Earth. Their mutual angel friend had called upon him to help figure out what it could have been that took Oliver’s life.

That had led to more of a struggle than Rasplin originally suspected. Their hunt for the truth had placed them in the crosshairs of a fallen angel and the Alpha of StarFire himself. Rasplin had fought to stop the Apocalypse when Azareel and Sholaster had decided to open the Cage to finish what Sam and Dean had halted. It hadn't been easy, especially when Rasplin had learned that both Sam and Dean had a hand in the death of his mate and daughter. Rasplin had wanted nothing more than to rip his claws through their throats, but something had changed. He had been reminded of what Meadowslip and Mina would've wanted and how they had the uncanny ability to see brightness in every situation. It was as though some of his rage and resentment had melted away. Rasplin still had a terse view of Sam, who had killed Meadowslip and drank her blood for it's power, but Rasplin had tried his best not to think of that on a daily basis. StarBound knew how difficult that was for him. 

"Please, Rasplin. Please." 

Rasplin forced his ears against his head. That was certainly Dean's voice and he was calling for him; he needed him. There was no way that Rasplin could possibly ignore them. 

He had heard from whispers from Wolvys in StarBound that the Winchesters had embarked on a quest to close the gates of Hell for eternity. Rasplin had been all for it, but that was before he had learned of the Trials. He had thought it was an idiotic idea to even think that the gates could be closed by putting themselves through Hell in the process. However, he hadn't been around to stop them from making that decision. They must have known how he would react to that. So why call for him now? 

"They must be desperate," Rasplin muttered with a pained look at his hare. His stomach gave an unfortunate rumble, reminding him that it had been days since he last ate. 

Reluctantly, Rasplin left his catch. Some skittish Wolvy would find it and perhaps it would fill their bellies for the time being. 

Rasplin romped through the forest, past the oaks and sycamores until he found the path that led to the hickory and willow trees, and where the veil was thinnest in StarBound. That would be how he would get to earth. If he could just cross the veil and then fly the rest of the way using the invisibility that his kind was blessed with, he would be able to reach Sam and Dean in their bunker by sundown. 

The pull of the veil tugged at Rasplin's fur long before he could see the shimmer with his own eyes. His paws tingled when he drew close, urging him to make the final leap. 

Rasplin halted at the entrance to glance around apprehensively. If word got out that Rasplin was visiting earth once again, there would be questions asked that he may not be able to answer. He couldn't explain his relationship with the Winchesters since he didn't fully understand it himself. How could he feel anything besides hostility to the two humans that had cost him so much?

He fought to keep those thoughts pushed down as he lowered into a crouch. With a heavy grunt, Rasplin leaped through the veil, landing gingerly on the damp forest floor. 

A steady drizzle of rain dripped from the overcast clouds. The droplets shed easily off of Rasplin's pelt. It wasn't long, however, until the rain began to fall in more steady increments. Water began to drench his pelt even as Rasplin crawled through the undergrowth in an attempt to keep his pelt dry. 

Mud began to cake at his paws and rub against his underbelly, clotting his fur in clay and moist soil. Rasplin swallowed a growl of frustration. Just a few more pawsteps and Rasplin would be able to break free and fly to the bunker without being detected. 

A rumble of thunder shook the ground underpaw. Rasplin sunk his claws deeper into the wet earth, ears slicked back due to the rain. A sigh left his lips when he saw a break in the undergrowth. Pulling himself free of a tangle of burrs, Rasplin broke into a steady run, front paws stretched out in front of him to curl into the sodden ground for leverage. His wings unfurled from his back as he crouched low, chest touching the ground, springing back up and disappearing from view.

Rasplin reappeared at the entrance of the Winchester's bunker. He was relieved to find that it wasn't raining there. In fact, the Kansas heat was something less than desirable. Rasplin shook out rain and dirt from his pelt, quickly realizing that he couldn't walk in there looking like he had been pulled through a bramble thicket backwards. 

The large Wolvy gnawed at tough pieces of mud caked into his belly fur, his tongue rasping roughly at patches of wet fur and feathers. He kept his invisibility up. There shouldn't have been anyone sniffing around, but Rasplin wasn't about to jeopardize the safety of the bunker. 

Once he was presentable, Rasplin straightened with his wings rested on his back and chin lifted proudly. It may have only been a few weeks to a month since Rasplin had seen the Winchesters, but that turned into nearly a year in StarBound. 

He padded over to the entrance and snorted in amusement. "Mouse-brains." He lifted his paw to the lock, threading his claw inside. He twisted it, grinning from ear to ear when he heard the familiar click. Who needed a key when his claws could do the same job?

Rasplin pushed open the door that led to the dark and musty tunnel. He pulled the door closed with a raised wing before turning to the darkness in front of him. 

Night vision was something that Hellhounds and StarBound Wolvys were blessed with. Rasplin was as surefooted in this tunnel just as he was in every confine of his den or running through the forest in the middle of the day. 

Rasplin kept his pawsteps silent, his weight evenly distributed through each paw. He began to slow when he saw light streaming from the end of the tunnel. He padded on top of the small overhang that allowed the onlooker to see every part of the living areas of the bunker. There he could see every control, the table map, and even spy partially into the library area. However, none of that was of any interest to Rasplin. 

His pupils adjusted to the light in the rest of the bunker. His head swiveled until he caught sight of Dean, who was sitting tucked into the library area with his head in his hands, bowing over his knees. The scent of grief, worry, and anguish was thick in the air like an impending storm. Whatever had been going on with Sam and Dean had clearly been going on for longer than either of them could handle. 

Just as silently as before, Rasplin headed down the steps one at a time. He jumped down from the final step to signal his arrival to Dean. The eldest Winchester was a skilled hunter and may not hesitate to put anything down that wandered into the bunker uninvited. The last thing Rasplin wanted was another wound to add to his rapidly growing collection. 

Rasplin padded over to the entrance of the library to find that if Dean had heard his arrival, he showed no signs of it. His blood red gaze narrowed in apprehension. Each step closer to Dean placed Rasplin on even higher alert. His ears shoved forward and shoulders were pulled back for easy escape if need be. 

He came almost to Dean's side to see his shoulders quaking with each breath as he cried. Rasplin had never known Dean to cry and certainly not break down quite how he was doing. A jolt of understanding rushed through Rasplin. He had felt this grief before in his life and each time he had been alone to face it. Rasplin was not about to let Dean settle to the same fate.

Rasplin leaned forward, resting his chin on the edge of Dean's knee.

Suddenly, Dean kicked his leg out instinctively, snapping against Rasplin's chest. 

Rasplin fell a few feet away from Dean. His breath came in agonized pants, paw slightly clutched around his chest. He glanced up, slightly frightened to see Dean standing up with a blade in one hand. His eyes were blazing with fury as he bore down on Rasplin. The former Hellhound attempted to growl, but all that came out was a painful wheeze. 

Realization flickered across Dean's face upon seeing Rasplin cowering on the floor. "R-Rasplin?"

"No, it’s Castiel. Who do you think it is," Rasplin snapped good naturally. However, when he saw the look of anger and confusion that sparked in Dean's eyes, he realized he shouldn't have brought up the angel. 

Dean shook his head to clear it, dropping his knife on the table and sliding over to Rasplin on his knees. "What are you doing here," he questioned, hands hovering around his head as if debating whether or not to run his fingers through Rasplin's wiry fur or not. 

Rasplin grunted, taking a step back so that Dean wouldn't get any ideas and touch him. He shook out his fur, the breath returning to his lungs. "You called for me, didn't you?" 

Dean let out a short laugh. "I didn't think that would actually work."

"Well, it did. This had better be important." An affectionate growl sounded in his words. "I had just caught a hare and didn't have time to eat it."

Dean looked Rasplin up and down. His entire life chasing creatures had shown him what a hungry one looked like. Despite his taunts, Rasplin's eyes were dull and his fur on his shoulders was slightly patchy as if a few clumps had been torn out from a recent battle. His hind leg was also a little stiff and swollen. Dean was sure if he pressed against his sides that he would be able to feel Rasplin's ribs jutting out from under his thick pelt. 

"Dean," Rasplin barked, interrupting his thoughts.

Dean lifted his hand to run his fingers through his spiking and slightly greasy hair. How long had it been since he took a shower again? 

"It's Sammy, Rasplin," Dean blurted out a moment later.

Rasplin titled his head. "What about Sam?" 

Rasplin had a sinking feeling that he already knew. He had heard the whispering of the Trials, but he needed Dean to tell him this himself. He wouldn't be able to help anything if they kept secrets from him.

Dean bowed his head. He walked back to his chair and sat down heavily, feet of the chair scuffing against the ground. Rasplin pinned his ears against his head to block out the sound as he padded closer.

"It's a long story," Dean confessed.

Rasplin sat across from Dean, nodding patiently. "And I have all the time in the world."


	2. Can’t Fight Illness On An Empty Stomach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm here to patch you up, not to be your best friend." There was a hint of amusement in Rasplin's gaze, but his voice remained stern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief warning for some medical situations in the following chapter that could be potentially triggering.

Dean told Rasplin everything.

He told him about how weird Castiel had been lately, the demon and angel tablets, Crowley's hand in everything, a prophet named Kevin, the Trails to board up Hell, and everything in between. 

Rasplin had listened intently, nodding patiently. He couldn't believe all of this had happened while he had been gone. He was sure that no one had thought to reach out to him. Truthfully, Rasplin was sure that there was nothing that he could've done even if they did call on him for help. He could barely handle his own responsibilities; who was he to think that he could aid in anyone else's problems?

"So, that's where we're at," Dean confessed after he had finished. He leaned back in his chair, exhausted. "It's a fucking mess."

Rasplin nodded solemnly. "Sounds like it. You should've called for me earlier. I could have....."

"There's nothing that you could've done, Rasplin." Dean leaned forward, rolling his ankles around. "I'm still not sure if there's anything that you can do now. I just thought that since you were a healer you could at least take a look at him. There's something seriously wrong with Sam.”

Rasplin rose to his paws, shaking out each paw in turn, trying to ignore the gnawing hunger in his stomach reminding him how empty it was. "Lead the way." 

Dean rose to his feet and headed out of the library with Rasplin right behind. The warmth that humans had come to rely on chased the last of the chill from Rasplin's fur from his run in the rain. The scent of food from the kitchen caused him to slow to a halt, mouth watering, nearly pooling at his paws.

Dean looked back over his shoulder when he couldn't hear Rasplin's pawsteps behind him. He saw the Wolvy sniffing at the air in the direction of the kitchen, swallowing thickly and clenching his jaw.

"Are you hungry," Dean questioned.

Rasplin tore his gaze away from the kitchen. "I'm fine," he answered stiffly.

Dean nodded, not at all appeased by Rasplin's answer. "How about we see if Sam wants anything to eat? Hamburgs are a real crowd pleaser here."

Anything, especially anything with meat, sounded delicious to Rasplin. "Er, that works." He didn't want Dean to know how truly hungry he was, how desperate he was for any sustenance no matter how small. It was beginning to mess with his head into thinking that even the faint meaty scents that rose from Dean would make a tasty option if he became desperate enough.

They left the kitchen to head down the hallway where most of the rooms lie. The hallway was still relatively dim and reminded Rasplin of his own tunnels in his cavern back in StarBound. He was able to pick up Sam's scent easily, but it was wasn't all Sam's scent that he could pick up. The sickening tang of illness nearly coated any scent of Sam in the air. It was thick, sour, and repulsive. Rasplin nearly gagged at the putrid scent while his muzzle wrinkled in disgust. 

Dean cast a glance of his shoulder to see Rasplin recoiling. "You can tell something I can't, can't you," he murmured worryingly.

Rasplin forced the look of disgust from his face. There was no need to worry Dean anymore than he was doing himself. "It's probably nothing," he muttered gruffly. "I won't know until I see him."

'You know even without seeing him that something is wrong', Dean thought. He had learned firsthand how well Hellhounds could smell. If Rasplin was recoiling like that a couple yards from Sam's room, how would Rasplin fare when he was inside muzzle to face with him?

Dean shook those thoughts off his shoulders as he came to Sam's room. He pushed the door open from it's slightly ajar position. 

There Rasplin saw the sickly looking form of Sam Winchester. He was sitting in bed in sleep pants and a gray cotton shirt. Still, the younger Winchester was shivering, entire body vibrating as goosebumps sprouted over his body. Teeth chattering, Sam lifted his wrist to rub it against his nose before hovering it over his mouth. He began to cough; a jarring sound that shook his entire frame and the bed that he was huddled on. It sounded congested and concentrated in his chest if Rasplin had to guess. Sam’s eyes were glazed and overbright in fever while his complexion was ashen, forehead sheen and slick with sweat. The scent of sickness in the hallway was nothing compared to the source of the smell. Fortunately for Rasplin he was used to illness and certainly wasn't squeamish. 

"Sammy," Dean bellowed a little louder than necessary. 

Sam looked back blearily in the direction of his brother. His eyes blinked rapidly in an effort to concentrate on what stood in front of him. "Dean," he rasped. His voice was raw from coughing while a slight wheeze sounded deep within his lungs when he spoke. 

Dean nodded encouragingly. "I'm not alone," he began, stepping aside. 

Sam's eyes widened in surprise as he saw the familiar dark black fur and gleaming red eyes that he grown to know well. "Rasplin?"

"The one and only," answered Rasplin with a lift of his head. His nostrils flared, the stale scent of sour bedding greeting him.

"W-What are you doing here? Is everything alright in StarBound?" Sam turned around in his bed, long legs falling from the side without any strength to hold him up if he tried to stand.

Rasplin waved off his questions with a flick of his head. "StarBound is fine."

"Has anyone given you any trouble for coming back?" 

"Um, considering I didn't harm any Wolvys last time I was here, no. What they don't know about most of my whereabouts the better."

Sam chuckled. "Well, it's great to see you, but, uh, what are you doing here?"

Rasplin hadn't thought to converse with Dean to make sure that they were on the same page, or even in the same book. "Uh, well...." 

"I just thought maybe Rasplin would have some insight into the angel tablet," Dean butted in, shooting Rasplin a hopeful look.  
  
Sam's eyes narrowed in scrutiny. "How could Rasplin offer any insight? He's not an angel." 

"No, he's not, but he probably knows more than us. Maybe he also knows why Cas isn't quite acting like Cas," Dean suggested.

"What's wrong with Castiel?" Rasplin hadn't heard from him in moons, but Rasplin thought that he had his own problems to sort out and hadn’t wanted to trouble Rasplin with them.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, trading weight between his legs. "There's something up with him and we haven't really heard from him. Have you heard or seen him?"

"No." Rasplin's claws drummed against the ground. He had been hoping to hear from Dean and Sam eventually, but being thrust back into the heart of some human problem with celestial connotations wasn't his idea of a fun activity. "As a matter of fact I haven't." 

Dean opened his mouth to say something else when pungent coughs filled the room.

Rasplin and Dean looked to Sam, who had one hand cupped under his mouth while his other arm rested against the headboard of his bed to steady himself. Sweaty brown hair fell into his eyes, sticking to his forehead. 

The smell of blood rose from Sam, nearly knocking Rasplin from his paws. The StarBound healer strode over to Sam confidently without any resistance from Dean. 

He pawed at Sam's hand to pull it slightly down so that Rasplin could see inside while Sam could still use it to catch anything he needed to. A small pool of crimson liquid glared at Rasplin from Sam's hand. A shudder passed through Rasplin. There was never any scenario where coughing up blood was anything but a horrible sign. 

"Dean," Sam groaned when the coughing didn't stop. 

"Lean forward," Rasplin instructed before Dean could say anything. "We don't want you swallowing any blood or choking on it." He glanced up to see Dean standing a foot away from his brother, looking fearful and strained. "Go and find a cup of water and a wet bundle of moss." 

"Moss?"

Rasplin grunted to himself. "Sorry, cloth or something. Just something that's damp and can be used to clean him up."

Dean couldn't believe how calm Rasplin was. His voice hadn't changed a bit despite the situation. 

"Dean, go," Rasplin instructed when Dean still stood as rooted to the ground.

Dean barely managed to pull himself away from his trembling brother. It was only his faith in Rasplin and knowing that the Wolvy was a gifted healer that gave him any inclination to trust him. Rasplin would be able to help Sam more than Dean could.

Once Dean left, Rasplin took to rubbing the tip of his bent wing against Sam's back in an effort to break up some of the lingering congestion. Each thump sent another jolt of pain through him. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes, threatening to roll down his face at any moment. Agony burned like fire in his gaze, adding to overall brightness thanks to his raging fever. 

"That's it," Rasplin coaxed. He used the same voice that he used with terrified pups when fever raked their bodies and they would call out for their mothers. Sam reminded him a lot of those pups. "It's almost over."

Just as Rasplin spoke, Sam was able to compose himself. He had a collection of blood in his palm while strings of it dripped from his open mouth, along with cloudy mucus. Embarrassment wafted off of him in waves, making Rasplin wonder if it was such a good idea that he was here with him instead of Dean.

"It's alright," soothed Rasplin in a surprisingly gentle voice.

Sam gritted his teeth, blood coating the once white canines. "This is the real reason you're here, isn't it," Sam hissed through a clenched jaw. "To fix me?" 

"Fix you," echoed Rasplin in surprise. "Sam, I'm going to do what I can, but I don't think that 'fixing' you is a possibility."

Sam squinted to him through tear filled eyes. 

"But, it can't hurt for me to at least examine you," Rasplin added quickly before Sam could lose all hope.

Footsteps signaled Dean's approach as he walked into the room with a cup of cold water and a damp washcloth. Rasplin nodded gratefully. "You're going to drink that entire cup of water and then you're going to rest until Dean makes you some food."

"Rasplin—“

"Don't try to change my mind," Rasplin interrupted quickly, ears flicking. "You can't fight anything with an empty stomach. That's one of the first things that I learned. You can have the best herbs known to StarBound, but without food, it's all for nothing."

Dean wasn't about to argue with Rasplin. He couldn't remember the last time that Sam had ate or ate anything more than a few bites. He had tried his best to force anything that he could down his brother's throat. Sam had responded that he wasn't hungry every single time. Perhaps with Rasplin there he could coax the younger Winchester that it was worth eating. 

"You're pushy," Sam snapped, a wiry twinge pulling the corners of his mouth upwards in a pained smile. 

Rasplin rolled his eyes. "Clearly you don't know who I am." He nodded to Dean to take that opportunity to force him to drink that water. 

Dean sat beside Sam and brought the water up to his lips. Sam battered Dean's hands away to take the class on his own, bringing it up to his lips and drinking it down in a few needy gulps. Once he was finished, Dean took the glass from Sam's rapidly shaking hands before he dropped it.

"Alright, little brother, let's get you cooled down," Dean offered, leaning forward to place the washcloth on Sam's forehead.

Sam ducked away. "Dean, please."

Dean looked over to Rasplin, motioning to Sam. Rasplin nodded in understanding. "I'd listen to him, Sam," Rasplin pressed. "Unless you want me to lay on your chest so that you don't move up from this bed."

"Damn, why did we ever invite you in here the first time," Sam complained as Dean forced him to lay back, slightly propped against the pillows so that it wouldn't trigger a coughing fit.

Rasplin shrugged. "Probably because you were knocked out with a concussion and Castiel was nearly unresponsive." He twitched his tail tip. "The short answer is that then, just like now, you need me; whether you like it or not."

Sam could see the darkness in Rasplin's gaze that showed his seriousness. There was no way that arguing with him would do anything but make things worse. "I think that you skipped the whole empathy thing when you became a healer."

"I'm here to patch you up, not to be your best friend." There was a hint of amusement in Rasplin's gaze, but his voice remained stern. 

"On that note, how about you help me with dinner, Rasplin? You can um watch or something." Dean frowned after he had fumbled over his words. 

Rasplin shrugged. "Sure." He could tell that Dean just didn't want him to be left alone with Sam for that long. The tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife. No matter what Rasplin had said, there would always be part of him that still held resentment with Sam because of he had done to Meadowslip. It was best not to let that stew any longer than it had already. 

Rasplin jumped down from the bed, landing with legs slightly sprawled. His vision momentarily blurred in front of him, causing him to stagger. Dean noticed and longed to say something, but he refrained. He didn't want to do anything that would cause a fight with Rasplin.

The Wolvy quickly righted himself, giving his pelt a much needed shake. Embarrassment gave way to frustration. Rasplin padded from the room swiftly, leaving an equally confused Dean and Sam in his wake.

Dean reached over to pat his brother's shoulder. "Sit tight. We'll be back." He followed Rasplin out of the room and closed the door behind him, leaving it open a smidge in case Sam needed anything.

Sam leaned back on the bed with the damp washcloth dripping into his eyes. He chuckled despite the pain in his lungs and into his aching joints. "Yeah, but back in one piece? That remains to be seen."


	3. Ravenous Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rasplin tells Dean what has been going on in his beloved StarBound.

Rasplin jogged into the kitchen, feeling the vices seem to release his joins from their grip. The closer he came to actually eating something, the suddenly better he felt. He was really wishing that he would've wolfed down the hare when he had a chance before seeing to Dean and Sam. 

"So, what was that about," Dean questioned when he had finally caught up to the thick furred Wolvy.

Rasplin tipped his head to the side. "What was what about?"

"The baby deer impression." Rasplin narrowed his eyes in confusion. "You know, the wobbling." Dean attempted to demonstrate what he meant, but he could tell by the look in Rasplin's eyes that he wasn't doing a very convincing job. "You were just a little unsteady on your feet is all and I—"

"And you nothing," interrupted Rasplin tersely. "It has nothing to do with you, so keep your muzzle where it belongs!"

Dean couldn't help but snicker, looking down at his feet. 

Rasplin's fur fluffed up along his spine in frustration. "What's so funny?"

"I don't have a muzzle that I know of."

Rasplin sighed. A year without seeing any human had clearly messed with his mind. "Yes, well, I think that you understand the idea." 

"Oh, I got the idea loud and clear. You're hungrier than I realized. In fact, I think that you're bordering on starving." Dean looked Rasplin up and down intently. He knew there was really no way to tell how thin Rasplin had become without touching him and he certainly wasn't about to do that. 

Rasplin caught Dean staring and shuffled his paws in front of him. "Are we going to eat or are we just going to stand here pretending to groom each other's fur." 

"I vote eat." Dean swept over to the fridge and opened it. 

The scent of so many different foods pulled Rasplin closer. Most of it was food he had never tasted, but he could detect meat as well as numerous items made with milk. That was something he hadn’t drank since he was a pup.

Dean caught Rasplin staring almost mesmerized at the amount of options. Dean grabbed a package of raw chicken and showed it to Rasplin. "Think this will taste okay?" Raw chicken wasn't ever something that Dean would've considered to be on the menu, but he was no Wolvy.

Rasplin barely managed a hungry nod. "I think it might."

Dean snorted as he tore the plastic from the chicken and set it down at his feet. Rasplin didn't hesitate to crouch forward, teeth tearing into the chicken breasts. Dean couldn't believe the ferocity at which he chewed and swallowed the chunks without another thought. It reminded him of plenty of supernatural creatures that he and Sam had taken down. In fact, if things had gone in a different way, Dean and Sam may have taken to hunting him. 

Just one look at Rasplin and all he had went through because and for them had Dean chasing those thoughts away quickly. 

Rasplin gobbled up the entire tray of chicken breast as if they were nothing. He licked the remaining juices from his lips and rubbed a paw to clean his short whiskers. "Thank you," he mumbled, tongue rolling from his mouth to savor the remaining scents of chicken that still clung to the air. 

"Are you still hungry?"

Rasplin peered up, ears twitching. "I'm fine."

"Uh huh." Dean looked back into the fridge, shifting some things around before finding a pack of raw hamburger meat. He made an almost longing sound in the back of his throat as he thought about how many wonderful burgers he could’ve made with it. He shook his head quickly to clear it. Rasplin had come all this way. The least that Dean could do was give up some of their food for the clearly starving Wolvy. 

"Here." Dean cut the top off the container and tipped the meat into a bowl. He set it in front of Rasplin, nodding slowly. "Eat up."

Hopefulness showed on Rasplin's face. He leaned over and chomped down the hamburger meat just as quickly. The tantalizing scent of raw meat flooded through him. His stomach growled happily as Rasplin kept eating. Blood dribbled down his chin, nearly falling onto the ground. Rasplin licked the bowl clean once he had eaten every last piece of flesh that he possibly could. It may not have tasted as delectable as freshly caught forest prey, but it was certainly better than the cooked food that Dean would make Sam.

"What happened to you, Rasplin," Dean murmured softly. 

Rasplin glanced up when it was clear that he couldn't pick up anymore meat from the bowl. "It doesn't matter," he muttered darkly. 

"I think that it does," broke in Dean quickly. "I mean, it's only been like a month and yet you look worse than when we fought Sholaster." 

"A month?" Rasplin began to lap at his chest fur to clean off any of the blood that had ran down his chin when he was wolfing down the meat. "Dean, time works differently in StarBound just as it does in Hell. A month here is a year in StarBound. I've spent a year there."

"A year?" Dean coughed to clear his throat. "Then what happened during that year?"

Rasplin shrugged. "StarBound used to be a utopia, just like Heaven. However, things don't always work out the way that they were intended. StarBound may be on a different dimensional plane, but we have most of the same struggles. There's now sickness and weather. I forgot how much I disliked the snow."

"I take it that hunting is a challenge." Dean knew that Rasplin was a capable hunter. He had seen that in the way that he had tracked them down when Harvey had held them in that abandoned warehouse. There was no reason that Rasplin should struggle to find food now. That meant that it couldn't be him. 

Rasplin nodded once he had finished grooming any possible remnants of meat from his pelt. "That's putting it mildly. It's been days since I've eaten and moons since I've eaten anything of sustenance. If only those fox-hearted angels wouldn't have broken in."

"Um, did you just say angels broke in? Like to StarBound?" This seemed to be something that Rasplin should've shared with them. Had Rasplin really not felt the need to share what he and other Wolvys of StarBound had been going through? Or was this much deeper than that? 

Rasplin dipped his head. "We noticed it about six months ago. At first we thought it was StarFire itching to find a new way into StarBound, but it was much too precise. Many Wolvys died while most others are terrified to have any angels in their hunting grounds. Many have forgotten that Wolvys used to help them in their missions before they were treated as glorified lapdogs. Most Wolvys broke completely away from angels and lived out their lives peacefully in StarBound. There were no angel wars to fight and many could find a mate and start a family. Apparently, angels didn't understand that."

"Do you know who's leading the charge," Dean questioned.

Rasplin narrowed his eyes. "Some high-tier angle named Naomi."

The name sent goosebumps sprinting down Dean's neck. That had been the same angel that had whispered in Castiel's ear and told him to kill Dean. "Yeah, I think I'm aware of her." 

"She sent her angels to pull Wolvys to her cause. Those that refused were killed." Rasplin used his claw to scrape some plague from his canines. "StarBound is like an untapped well. We have natural resources and other things angels are after."

"Like what?" 

"Ever wonder where angel blades are made?"

"In StarBound?!"

"The material is. Angels used to harvest it to make their weapons. They started to bleed StarBound dry and were cut off. Apparently their stores are a little withered at the moment." Rasplin straightened, ears slicked back against his head. "I've seen some evidence that they are taking wing spurs from Wolvys to form them into weapons they can use against angels. There's been reports of them even taking them from pups." 

Another wave of resentment toward the angels washed over Dean. He had always thought that they could be dicks, but this was taking it a step too far. What had those Wolvy pups or Wolvys in general ever done to them? From what Rasplin had told him it just sounded as though they wanted to be left alone. Yet, that didn't seem to be a possibility.   
  
"Is there anything Sam or I could do to help," Dean offered. 

Amusement glittered in Rasplin's gaze. "No offense, but your brother can barely lift his head and you look like you're about to fall asleep on your feet. We'll figure it out. We always have. It's also best that we do so with as minimal of involvement from anyone that isn't a Wolvy. Most of them are quite skittish when it comes to humans."

"I wish you would've said something." A dinging sound from the fridge alerted Dean that they had kept it open for too long. He quickly chose a container of soup that he had made the day before and decided to heat that up for Sam. Perhaps he could coax him to eat a little more than he had previously. 

Rasplin shrugged. He picked up the bowl and set it on the counter, longing for more as his stomach grumbled. "It wouldn't have done any good. It seems that you've had enough going on here."

"You can say that again." Dean tipped the plastic container into a pot and placed it on the stove. He lit the burner, stirring the soup with a wooden spoon.

Rasplin sat across from him with his tail tapping against the ground beside him. "Where exactly do you go from here?"

Dean let out a choked laugh. "We close the freaking gates of Hell."


	4. Looking Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When looking through the Men Of Letters bunker, Rasplin comes across something he wished he hadn’t.

While Dean finished heating up his and Sam's dinner, Rasplin decided to take a more thorough look around. He found his way over to the basement, or dungeon, as Dean had called it. Something seemed to be calling him in there and he wanted to figure out why.

His gaze rested on stacks and stacks of boxes, many containing files of information. Rasplin had recalled that Dean had said this used to be a bunker for some human group called the Men of Letters. It had reminded him of some healers that were said to be linked to one another and to the secrets of the past and present. He had thought that they had died out long ago and the same seemed to be true for the Men of Letters. Either way, Rasplin wasn't sure if it was safe for one society to hold so much information. That was usually when things went wrong. 

Rasplin forced his thoughts on the matter to lay to rest as he walked along the boxes. His wing was slightly outstretched, feathers brushing each box. He could feel and scent the last people to touch most of these and they were neither Sam nor Dean. 

His gaze scorched each box that was labeled until he found one with the words 'winged dog' etched on the side. Without a second thought, Rasplin sunk his teeth into the small opening that was used for human hands to grab onto it. He pulled it out easily, feeling the weight shift inside the cardboard box. 

"What secrets do you have inside," Rasplin whispered, pressing his muzzle against the top to force it open. He glanced inside almost instinctively. 

Inside he found a folder of eyewitness reports as well as some sketches. Most of it was research on what some people had thought that they had seen. Unfortunately, Rasplin couldn't tell whether or not the reports were about Wolvys of Hellhounds. Since many Hellhounds had wings as StarBound Wolvys did, it was often difficult for those that didn't know anything about them to tell the difference. Hellhounds were always black and had red eyes, if they were truly a Hellhounds. It seemed like these Men of Letters weren't positive about what they saw. 

There was an ancient film roll at the bottom besides the folders. Rasplin stretched out his paw to touch it when he heard his name being called faintly. 

"Rasplin!" 

Rasplin recognized it as Dean’s. Stifling a groan, Rasplin clamped his teeth around the cover and placed it back on top. He forced the box back onto a lower shelf so that he could retrieve it later. This may be Sam's and Dean's bunker now, but it clearly wasn't theirs to begin with. That meant that Rasplin had as much right to it as they did in his eyes.

He abandoned his search momentarily to romp back up the stairs, quickly shaking out his fur to hide where he had been. He leaped the final two steps with ease, feeling his muscles pulse under his pelt. It had been a while since he had felt this well fed nor agile. This ever changing StarBound wasn't treating him kindly. 

Dean appeared from out of the kitchen with a dinner tray clutched surely in his fists. "Where were you," Dean questioned.

"Looking around," answered Rasplin quickly. He padded past Dean's side with a flick of his tail tip. "Did you know there's a garage in this place?" 

"Awesome, isn't it!"

Rasplin was relieved to hear no hint of disbelief in Dean's voice. He had enough going on without having to wonder what Rasplin was up to. 

"You have that first aid kit that you were so fond of last time," Rasplin called over his shoulder.

"Sure do. Think there's anything useful in there?" Dean had already used everything that he could think of in there, but maybe Rasplin had a better idea. 

Rasplin shrugged. "I'd prefer to use my herb store, but going back to StarBound may not be a possibility. I'll know more when I can examine him." 

The rest of the walk was relatively quiet until they drew closer to Sam's room. Rasplin could hear the coughing long before Dean did, but he hadn't reacted to it. Rasplin had been around plenty of sick Wolvys to be able to pick out different coughs from each other. Sam's cough was congested and productive with blood. That was never a good sign.

Dean noticed Rasplin's right ear pivoting on his head, angled toward farther down the hall, while his other ear lay plastered against his head. "Hear something," he asked. 

Rasplin cursed hunter observational skills. "Nothing that you won't in a little while." It was a curt answer, but an answer nonetheless. 

When they were outside Sam's door, Dean suddenly realized what Rasplin meant. Choked coughs were coming from inside. Dean knew that meant that Sam was attempting to hold them back to the best of his ability so that he didn't worry him. 

Dean opened the door to find Sam crunched forward, propped up on his elbow with a fist clutched to his mouth. His chest crushed inwards with every ragged hack. Blood was not only flowing from his lips, but from his nose as well. Sweat drenched down his back and created a sheen on his upper brow. Equally sweaty bangs fell forward into Sam's eyes. 

"Damnit!" Dean rushed forward and set the tray on Sam's nightstand, sitting down on the bed beside him. He rested a hand on Sam's shoulder to force him to sit up so that he didn't swallow any of the blood like Rasplin had warned him about earlier. 

Dean tore his gaze from Sam to look across the room to Rasplin, who was still standing at the entrance of the room. "Rasplin," Dean begged, lifting his hand to palm Sam's forehead. Heat radiated from his brother’s clammy skin.

Rasplin shook his head to clear it. "Blood-cough." He leapt forward, landing beside Dean and Sam. He pressed his paw against Sam's chest, moving the soft part of his pad around. "Is there tightness?"

Dean tried to catch Sam's gaze. "Is there tightness," he repeated.

Sam closed his eyes tightly, face scrunched up in pain. "A-A little," he stammered. 

Rasplin jumped from the bed, landing on steadfast paws. "I may not be able to cure what Sam has, but I do know a few herbs that I would use if this was blood-cough in StarBound."

"Hold on, blood-cough," inquired Dean. "That's a thing?"

"Yes, and it's quite dangerous. However, if I can get to my stores I should be able to get you something for it." Rasplin appeared to be talking to himself, his eyes taking on a glazed sheen. "Do you have a flask?" 

"A what?"

"Flask. A Flask!" 

Dean patted his pocket subconsciously before remembering that he had burned Bobby's flask. He shook his head to clear it as he waved his hand toward the door. "There should be one in my room on the nightstand. Just take that one."

"I'll be back as soon as I can. Until I do, don't let Sam swallow any of that blood," Rasplin ordered, pelting from the room without waiting for either Winchester to respond. 

It was a risk traveling back to StarBound after a trip to earth. Any Wolvy within a few miles of the veil would be able to scent it on his fur and that could mean trouble, especially with tensions being as high as they were. However, Rasplin didn't see another option. He had to help Sam in anyway that he could and he had a feeling that there was something in StarBound that just might work.


	5. StarPool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rasplin padded over a small rise, ears pricked, nose twitching. He held Dean’s flask firmly between his jaws to help disguise the scent of his breath as well as keep the item close. The last thing that he needed was to lose it and risk someone finding out about him that way. 
> 
> He had rolled in a pile of leaf litter and snow the moment his paws touched down in StarBound's hunting grounds, but he still feared that Dean's and Sam's scent lingered on his pelt. Human stench was difficult to rid oneself of, even after being in StarBound for moons. Rasplin knew that he had to be as quick as possible before anyone noticed him. This would be nearly impossible to explain.
> 
> Rasplin charged through the forest just as another sheet of snow was beginning to fall from the sky. Particles settled on his pelt and melted just as quickly. Numbness began to spread through his paws as they collided rhythmically with the cold ground. His breath caught in his throat as the flask turned to sheer ice in his teeth. He set his jaw tighter to make sure the flask didn't fall.

Rasplin padded over a small rise, ears pricked, nose twitching. He held Dean’s flask firmly between his jaws to help disguise the scent of his breath as well as keep the item close. The last thing that he needed was to lose it and risk someone finding out about him that way. 

He had rolled in a pile of leaf litter and snow the moment his paws touched down in StarBound's hunting grounds, but he still feared that Dean's and Sam's scent lingered on his pelt. Human stench was difficult to rid oneself of, even after being in StarBound for moons. Rasplin knew that he had to be as quick as possible before anyone noticed him. This would be nearly impossible to explain.

Rasplin charged through the forest just as another sheet of snow was beginning to fall from the sky. Particles settled on his pelt and melted just as quickly. Numbness began to spread through his paws as they collided rhythmically with the cold ground. His breath caught in his throat as the flask turned to sheer ice in his teeth. He set his jaw tighter to make sure the flask didn't fall.

He was finally able to slow when his cavern loomed into view. He skidded to a halt, large claws dug into the sheer ground to stop him from falling forward. He lowered down at the entrance, pressing his flank against the boulder. He rolled it easily aside to give him enough room to crawl his way in.   
  
The sheer coldness of the den surprised him. He set the flank down, breath billowing around his muzzle like a cloud. Just the little time that Rasplin had spent in the bunker seemed to be turning him soft if the slight chill in his den bothered him. 

Forcing the thought down, Rasplin headed to the back of his den where he kept most of his stores. Due to the cold weather, Rasplin hadn't been able to replenish his rapidly diminishing store of herbs. What he did have he had been eating to ward off the first pangs of hunger to keep his strength up. It didn't matter if prey was scarce, there were still Wolvys who depended on him and other healers to help with illness an injury. It wouldn't be long before Rasplin was giving up his strengthening herbs for others. 

Rasplin forced himself to the back of his stores and threaded a paw into a deep crevice. He brought out two different stalks of vegetation as well as some broad and crinkled leaves. He set them aside, forcing his paw to reach over his head. He felt something smooth and easily knocked it forward. It rolled from the stone shelf, falling on his head. Rasplin tipped his head sideways as a small round and hard object fell beside the other herbs. 

"I hope you appreciate this, Sam," whispered Rasplin. He stretched out his muzzle to roll the circular object onto the leaves. He set the stalks in after and bundled it together. He picked up the bundle in his jaws and headed back for the entrance. 

The colder temperature gave him the added push he needed to break into a trot, paws drumming against the ground and body stretched out to cover more ground. He knew that the longer that he was away, the worse Sam would become. There was nothing that he could do against trails ordained by God, but he wasn't about to just sit by and do nothing either. 

Rasplin stopped by the entrance to stoop down and grasp the flask under his chin. Ordinarily he would've tucked it under his wings, but he may need them if he was cornered somewhere and had to make a quick getaway. It was always best to leave his wings unencumbered. 

He slid his paw over the stone at the foot of the entrance, pressing down to move the boulder. Rasplin slid out, allowing the boulder to roll back into position. He kicked snow to cover his tracks near the entrance, praying that no one detected his faint scent that clung there. 

It was time to make one more stop before heading to the bunker. However, he wasn't quite sure where that spot would be.

He hadn't gotten far from his den when he heard a chilling growl. Rasplin turned sharply to see a gray brindle she-wolf baring down on him, her lips peeled back to reveal her sharp front teeth. Saliva dripped from her fangs, landing in small rivulets on the sodden ground. Her green eyes were the color of the forest with speckles of gold within. She favored her left hind leg where a festering wound had never healed. The scent of blood clung to her and when Rasplin followed his gaze to her paws, he saw a starling laying limp with a broken wing. 

Rasplin lowered his head into his shoulders, ears folded back and tail tucked between his leg to show that he was not a threat. "It's alright," he mumbled around the herbs in his muzzle. "I'm not going to hurt you." Rasplin knew that he could easily take her on any day and win, but there was no need to resort to violence if it could be avoided.

The brindle she-wolf's eyes hardened. "And where do you think you're going," she hissed. 

Rasplin immediately recognized the she-wolf by the slight wheeze in her words. This was a she-wolf that he had met before. "Rosie?" 

The brindle she-wolf drew back, startled. Her eyes blinked rapidly in an attempt to guess who was in front of her. "Rasplin?"

Rasplin's heart ached when he thought about the last time that he had spoken to the brindle pelted she-wolf. He fought the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him, his throat growing thick in emotion. "Yes, it's me." He set the herbs at his paws so that he could speak easier. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" 

Rosie nodded slowly, suddenly less fearful of being near Rasplin. "Yes, I suppose it has."

"How have you been? I haven't heard anything," pointed out Rasplin quickly. 

Rosie ducked her head shyly. She gave her chest fur a couple embarrassed laps of her tongue. "I've been managing, I suppose. It hasn't been easy."

As she spoke, Rasplin noticed her ribs jutting out from her thinning fur. Silver hairs tinged her muzzle, beginning to turn gray with age. "Have you been eating enough?" Rasplin felt he already knew the answer to that question.

"I've been doing alright," she barked quickly. "It's different without....." She trailed off abruptly. "I'm doing fine. What about you? I haven't seen or heard anything about you." 

Rasplin was tempted to tell her about his time on earth and with the Winchesters. He refrained when he remembered how old-fashioned Rosie was. She was an older Wolvy and had seen even more than Rasplin had. She had been fighting for StarBound when Rasplin was still a pup in StarFire. There was no doubt in his mind how she would feel about his whereabouts. 

"I've been alright, just trying to get by, I guess," he mumbled quickly. 

Rosie's eyes quickly drifted to the flask beside the herb bundle. "You've been spending time with humans, haven't you," she murmured darkly. 

Rasplin cursed himself for not hiding the flask better. How had he been so foolish?! 

"It's not what it looks like," Rasplin began.

Rosie tilted her head quizzically. "No? Because I see a human flask and enough herbs to deal with any sort of respiratory illness." Her eyes narrowed further. "Is that hardened wing oil?"

Rasplin protectively rested a paw on top of the hard, smooth object. "Maybe."

"You forget that I was the mate of a healer for centuries. I know all of the tricks, as well as some far fetched cures. There's no proof that wing oil heals anything," Rosie argued. 

"Heals, no. But, I've seen it work on internal bleeding." He rolled the object closer to him. "In fact, we saw it work on Redscar, didn't we?" 

Rosie flinched at the mention of the name. She looked shyly past Rasplin, her fur fluffing up against the wind. "It did for a short while."

"Look, Rosie, I know that I have no right to ask this of you, but please don't tell anyone that you've seen me. I know that they won't be as understanding as you are," Rasplin pleaded.

"Who says that I'm understanding?" 

"I know you and I knew Redscar. He was like my mentor and taught me what it meant to heal lives instead of taking them. You know me that I would never do anything to harm StarBound, but this is something I have to do. Please." Rasplin couldn't remember begging like this in his life, but he was that desperate. He couldn't help Sam if Rosie signaled StarBound to his comings and going to earth.

Rosie stood thoughtfully for a moment. Her eyes flickered to and from Rasplin's herbs to his eyes. "You're looking for a StarPool, aren't you?" 

It was common knowledge that there were special pools in StarBound's territory that were formed from melted stars. They possessed incredible healing properties. Even if they couldn't heal every ailment completely, they would give the one who drank from the pool increased strength and lessening of symptoms for the time being. With someone as sick as Sam, Rasplin wasn't sure if it would work, but it was worth a try in his eyes. 

"It could help," Rasplin began hopefully. "I know it's a long shot and I don't even know where one is, but I know that it could work. I at least have to try." 

"Whoever you're fighting for, is it worth it to you," Rosie asked breathlessly.

Rasplin dipped his head. "Without hesitation."

Rosie glanced around quickly, eyes darting seemingly in every direction. "Follow me and don't make a sound," she hissed. She then turned up the way she came and headed back into the undergrowth, keeping herself low to the ground so that her black and gray patches of fur melted into the environment. 

Rasplin suddenly cursed himself that Hellhounds couldn't become invisible in StarBound's hunting grounds. That would make things much easier. Instead, Rasplin ducked down to grab his herbs and flask, quickly pelting across the forest and into the undergrowth after Rosie. 

He wasn't sure how long they had run until his haunches began to ache. He noticed that Rosie was beginning to slow just as much as Rosie was. Her favored hind leg was causing her to stagger while she forced the afflicted leg to stretch out. Rasplin was sure that she wouldn't be able to continue for much longer like this. If the stiffening of her joints and the way she twisted her muzzle told Rasplin anything, it was that she didn't have many more long treks left in her. 

"Rosie, can I ask you something," Rasplin broke in when they were no longer running, just hobbling side by side.

Rosie's eyes blazed in determination, yet she still found the time to talk. "Sure, Rasplin. Ask away."

"Okay, did you know what StarBound was like before all of this?" 

Rosie thought for a moment before nodding. "I do, actually." Her head lowered, ears twitching. "When I was a young pup, there was no problems anywhere in StarBound. There were battles in Heaven, sure, but whenever we were needed we were called, fought, and then came back here and were healed the moment we crossed the border. However, that didn't last long after corruption took over here just as it did in Heaven. We were forever cast out of Heaven and no Wolvy had been allowed to set paw there since. It didn't take long for weather and illness to take over here too. This is not the perfect place I was born into."

Rasplin had been born into pain and death from the moment he opened his eyes. To him, StarBound was still a safe haven where he wasn't constantly fighting for every breath or having to kill another StarFire Wolvy for food. Still, even he had noticed things beginning to slip in StarBound. This wasn't the same place he and Meadowslip had once settled down to start a family. 

"Now these angels have come in and they take whatever they damn well please. Those Wolvys didn't do anything to him, especially the pups. I'll tell you what; if Redscar was here he'd have a conniption. This is the not the StarBound he spend his whole life serving." Rosie suddenly halted with her fur puffing out around her neck. 

Rasplin halted beside her. "What?"

Her muzzle lifted as she pointed to a small burrow up ahead. "In there," she instructed. 

Rasplin gulped, dropping the herb bundle at his paws. "Are you sure? I don't even think that I can fit in there," he argued.

"You will if you follow me."

Rasplin looked Rosie up and down. The quiver of her haunches and the catch in her breath told Rasplin that she was far from able to help with this. Why was she risking so much to help him and two humans that she didn't know?

"Rosie, I can't ask you to do that," he murmured lowly. 

Rosie's eyes shone in defiance. "Good, because you didn't ask. I offered and there's nothing that you can tell me to make me change my mind." There was a hint of strength in her voice that reminded Rasplin of the proud warrior she used to be. She had always been more timid, but her strength was undeniable. 

"Thank you, Rosie." Rasplin couldn't find any other words to let her know how much he appreciated her helping.

Rosie offered him a tired smile. "Between you and me, this is the most I've been able to help in moons. It seems I've been slowing down." 

Rasplin drew back in mock surprise. "I don't see it."

"You don't need to flatter me, Rasplin. I know what aching joints and tired paws mean. I'm not getting any younger and neither are you."

"I have centuries left in me," he argued, chest puffed out in pride. 

"Not if you don't take care of yourself." Rosie leaned forward, rubbing her muzzle gently against Rasplin's cheek. "I know that you want help those humans, but it can't be at the cost of yourself."

"I'll be fine," he growled gruffly. He was touched by Rosie's concern. He knew that she meant well. That didn't mean that he could stop just because times were tough in StarBound. 

Rosie sensed that their conversation was over. She said nothing as she lowered down, underbelly pressed flush against the ground. She wiggled into the tunnel, pulling herself forward through the tunnel with her haunches disappearing into the darkness.

Rasplin sucked in a steadying breath, hunkering down with paws and shoulders pressed inward. His head breached the entrance, forced against the top of the tunnel so that he could pull the rest of himself into the cramped space. No scent reached Rasplin's mouth besides that of Rosie in front of him. Darkness pressed all around him. 

Rasplin wasn't sure how long he had trekked down the tunnel when Rosie walked into a large mouth of a cavern. Rasplin picked up his pace until his front paws stretched and broke off from the edge of the grit filled tunnel. He pulled himself forward and forced his paws to hold him. 

In front of Rasplin in a deep cavern underground stretched a glittering silver like liquid moonlight. There was a sheen over the pool that seemed thick and milky. An almost gentle twinkling sound seemed to rise from the still pool. There was no way for light to reach into the space, but light seemed to seep from the pool itself. 

Rasplin's jaw gaped in shock as he realized what they had just stumbled upon. 

"StarPool!"


	6. Mentor and Apprentice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Did you know this was here," Rasplin whispered.
> 
> Rosie shrugged. "I may have come here right before Redscar died. It gave me a few more good hours with him before he joined the Vanishment." Her dappled gray wings curled tighter around her body, making herself seem even smaller. "But, I haven't told anyone else about it. If the angels ever found out about this—“
> 
> "They'd bleed it dry."

"Go ahead," whispered Rosie, setting the flask that she had grabbed with her wing beside Rasplin. "This is what you came for, isn't it?"

Rasplin struggled to force his paws to move. He leaned over and sunk his teeth into the flask and dipped it into the glistening pool. The liquid was much thicker than Rasplin thought it would be. The silver substance moved like honey and flowed into the small opening of the flask ever so slowly. Rasplin struggled to collect as much as possible before drawing back and setting it at his paws. He used his wing to screw the cap back onto the flask. He watched the liquid that had fallen from the sides seemed to pull itself back into the pool, disappearing back into the silver sheen. 

"Did you know this was here," Rasplin whispered.

Rosie shrugged. "I may have come here right before Redscar died. It gave me a few more good hours with him before he joined the Vanishment." Her dappled gray wings curled tighter around her body, making herself seem even smaller. "But, I haven't told anyone else about it. If the angels ever found out about this—“

"They'd bleed it dry." Shivering, Rasplin grabbed the flask and angled himself toward the entrance. "We had better go."

Rosie didn't waste anytime in clawing her way out of the tunnel that they came in through with Rasplin right behind. The two emerged side by side with Rasplin setting his flask on his pile of herbs he had buried under a thin layer of soil. He turned back to the tunnel and reared on his hind legs. 

He thrust his front paws down on the entrance, pulling dirt over the entrance to cause a cave in. 

"What are you doing," Rosie gasped. 

Rasplin turned to her when once the tunnel had collapsed in on itself. "That is too powerful for any Wolvy to know where it is. Angels would kill whoever they needed to for that information, including you!"

Rosie drew back, a paw lifted against her chest. "I-I can defend myself, Rasplin." Her ears shoved forward and her right upper lip curled in a fierce snarl. 

Rasplin forced his voice to be gentle when he spoke again. "I know, Rosie, but that doesn't mean I want to put you in harms way because of me," he murmured soothingly. "What do you think Redscar would say?" 

"Redscar wouldn't want me risking my life." Rosie's voice dropped a tone in defeat. "What he forgot to point out is that life just isn't worth living with him at my side."

"I know how you feel," Rasplin sympathized. "When I lost Meadowslip and then Mina, I thought that my life was over. But, I have since found something to fight for. I'm not saying you have to join battle again. I do know that you will find something that makes life worth living again." 

Rosie opened her mouth to speak when a howl rose from across the forest. Rasplin and Rosie both stood with fur bristling and ears pricked. 

"It's a patrol," Rosie hissed. "Quick, you need to go!"

Rasplin looked down to her. "I can't just leave you here. If they find out that I was here and have gone back to earth, they'll want to know why!"

"And you think that I can't handle that?" Rosie nudged his pile of herbs and hardened wing oil stone in his direction. "Just take this and go. Help that human. Tell him I hope he’s worth it."

Rasplin picked up the bundle of herbs and set it on his spine beside the flask and wing oil stone. He curled his wings over it to clutch them close. Flying wasn't going to be a possibility, so Rasplin needed his mouth to be free of anything so that he could talk if he needed.   
  
"Thank you, Rosie, for everything."

Rosie twitched an ear. "Go!"

Rasplin didn't need to be told twice. He leaped behind Rosie and speared toward the weakened veil. His paws struck the ground as strong as before while wind whipped around him at all angels. He could fairly taste the scent of Wolvys flanking him a mile or so back. His black fur would just be a blur in their line of vision, but Rasplin didn't put it past them to follow him. He wasn't considered the most likable Wolvy in StarBound on the account of parentage. Many Wolvys were looking for a reason to haul him in front of the elders to be banished from StarBound's hunting grounds. It was best not to give them anymore reason to do so.

Rasplin forced his body forward even as he saw the veil shimmering in front of him. Just a few more strides and he would be free. 

With a final leap, Rasplin tumbled through the portal and landed with a thud in the heart of Yellowstone National Forest. 

The impact of the landing send his herbs flying and flask tumbling. Alarm seared through Rasplin as he rifled through the undergrowth, tearing leaves and grit with his claws to find his lost items. The two stalks were the easiest to find and he was able to claw his leaves from the slick ground. The flask had landed a tail-length away against a stone. The side had become dented, but no StarPool liquid had seeped out. The wing oil stone was the hardest to find, but he managed to sniff it out in a pile of toadstools. Rasplin pressed the flank under his chin while clamping his jaws around the herbs and wing oil stone. 

The need to fly and stretch his wings overwhelmed him, but Rasplin was quick to force it down. 'Zapping around' as Dean had called it was the best option without being found. He would have to wait to stretch his wings when there was no chance of anyone seeing him. 

" Great StarBound I hope this works."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rasplin's eyes narrowed as he adjusted to the light that streamed from the tunnel of the bunker. His jaw was aching from the effort to keep the herbs in his mouth and chin pressed around the flask to hold it to his chest. He wanted nothing more than to curl into his nest and sleep for the next moon, but he still had work to do. He could rest when it was done.

He headed down the steps just in time to see Dean drinking a beer in the kitchen. His fire-hungry gaze lingered on Rasplin. "Where the Hell have you been?" 

"I—"

"Just, come on. Sam's only getting worse. I thought you said you were going to hurry," Dean complained without allowing Rasplin an explanation. 

Rasplin clamped his jaws tighter against his bundle of herbs to swallow his retort. "Sorry." The apologize felt like venom in his throat, but it was better than creating an argument. Dean would never understand quite what Rasplin had to go through just as Rasplin would never really understand his struggles on earth. 

He carried the objects into the kitchen and reared on his hind legs, front paws resting on the edge of the counter. He opened his nearly set jaw to allow the herbs to fall onto the table. The hard stone of wing oil nearly rolled off the edge, but Dean was there to catch it. 

He turned it around in front of him, brushing his fingers against the smooth sides. "What is this?"

"Hardened Wolvy wing oil."

Dean almost gagged, setting the object down beside the herbs. He grimaced as he wiped his hand down his jeans. "Dude, that's just gross."

Rasplin tipped his head. "Do you want to help your brother or not?"

"As long as I'm not drinking whatever this is," Dean mumbled.

Rasplin set the flask down beside his herbs. His ear twitched when he realized he was going to have a lot more supplies than were usually at his disposal. "Heat the wing oil." 

"Like on the stove?"

"Sure, if that's what humans use. You need to make it very warm so that it turns to liquid. It shouldn't take long," Rasplin called as he nudged the herbs in front of him. "I'll also need a bowl."

"What did you do in StarBound when you didn't have someone to order around?" Dean brought out a glass bowl and set it on the floor in front of Rasplin. 

Rasplin grumbled as he took the herbs and flask and tipped them onto the ground. The flask hit the ground hard, but didn't break. "In the ancient packs, which some Wolvys still flock to, there are also two healers; one mentor and one apprentice. Once the mentor dies, the apprentice takes over. Not all of us are that fortunate to be in packs." 

Dean lit a burner on full blast. He set the solid stone-like object in the center and began to stir it around the pot with his finger. He drew back, hissing when the heat zapped his finger. "How would you have heated this up in StarBound?" 

"Don't know; never needed to." Rasplin took the two different stalks and squeezed out the insides with his one paw holding them over the bowl and his other paw raised with two front claws squeezed on either side. He flicked his claw down, allowing the pasty inside to fall into it. He then lifted the stalk to his mouth and began to chew it into a paste. 

Dean turned sharply, crossing his arms over his chest. "You don't know? Yet you want to make my brother eat this thing?!"

Rasplin didn't even flinch to Dean's scream. It barely fazed him. "They are incredibly difficult to make and require one to burn both of a Wolvy's wings under the perfect conditions to create it. I never used it on any of my patients, even the ones that were dying while their kin begged me to do anything in my power to heal them. So, no, I haven't used it on anyone before, but I know that it will give your brother the strength he needs to complete these trails with a few other ingredients." Rasplin spat out the stalk, grimacing at the taste. 

"And those other ingredients are?"

Rasplin sighed in frustration. He flicked his paw to the stalk he had just chewed. "This is coltsfoot. It's good for tightness in the chest or shortness of breath." He picked up the next stalk and began to prepare it in the same way, squeezing the inside out into the bowl before gnawing on them, ignoring the bitter taste. "This is lavender. It's used to reduce fevers."

Dean frowned when he watched Rasplin spit out what he had just chewed into the bowl. "Any reason you're making it mush in your mouth." 

"Better than forcing this into your brother's mouth and telling him to chew." A wiry smile played on the corner of Rasplin's mouth when he spit the rest of the lavender into the bowl. "Gotta treat him like a newborn pup." 

"Hey, now, no one told you to coddle him. He can take care—"

"Wing oil."

Dean turned sharply to see smoke beginning to rise from the pot. He swore loudly, grabbing a nearby spoon and swirling it into the almost golden looking liquid. It looked nothing like the light brown stone that had been there moments before. He dunked the spoon in, rising it up to see the golden liquid in front of him. "What the Hell?" 

"Doesn't look so gross now, does it?" Rasplin moved onto both leaves. Those he was able to crush without chewing them up, sprinkling the leaf litter on top of the coltsfoot and lavender. 

Dean looked back over his shoulder. "Uh, no, it really doesn't."

Rasplin flicked his tail to each clump of torn leaf fragments. "Tansy, used to soothe the throat and aid with coughing. Borage can help with fever and coughs as well." 

"It's weird to think that a leaf or plant of any kind can offer all that," Dean chuckled.

"Something tells me you don't like to eat plants." Rasplin didn't either, but his species didn't rely on it as humans did.

Dean shrugged. "You can put whatever you want on my burger, but other than that not so much."

Rasplin rolled his eyes. "Bring the pot over and tip out all of the liquid in here," he ordered. 

Dean grabbed the handle of the pot and carried it over to Rasplin. He kneeled beside him, pouring the golden liquid all over the clumps of paste and pieces of leaves. Once it was all dumped out, Rasplin looked to the flask on the table. "Pour that in here next.”

"Are you going to tell me what that is?" Dean took the flask and unscrewed the top. He leaned over to sniff it, but he couldn't pick up anything. "Or am I going to have to guess?" 

Rasplin sat back on his haunches. Did Dean always talk this much or ask this many questions? "Go ahead and try?"

Dean sensed the dryness in Rasplin's voice. He fought it down as he tipped the flask out into the bowl. Silver light like liquid stars flowed from the flask and into the bowl. Dean nearly dropped the flask and pressed himself against the wall. He didn't know what this was, but he was sure he wasn't pure enough to see it. 

"W-What is this," Dean whispered hoarsely. 

Rasplin blinked, almost transfixed, on the liquid. "StarPool water. It's the liquid from a star. It's a very coveted thing in StarBound. It is rumored to give those that drink it enhanced abilities in StarBound. However, those that are sick or injured, it is said to prolong their life." 

"And you know this one works," Dean asked hopefully.

Rasplin dipped his head. "I didn't use it myself, but I did know a Wolvy that did. H-He was very sick when he took it and there wasn't anything that I could do for him. But it did give him and his mate a couple extra days together."

"Days? That's it?" 

"He was much sicker than Sam was and would’ve only had hours without it. There was no way that he could be completely cured when his body was so ravaged by his illness.” Rasplin lifted his wing and grasped the spoon that Dean had used to stir the wing oil. He brought it back down and began to stir the ingredients together, murmuring softly. 

Dean fought to meet Rasplin's gaze. "And what condition did this Wolvy have?" 

Rasplin had longed for Dean not to ask that. He set his jaw in frustration, head sliding upward to meet Dean's gaze. "Blood-cough."


	7. Defeated In More Ways Than One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly feeling weak, Dean fell back when his legs could no longer hold him. Rasplin's gaze disappeared back to what he was doing, making sure all the ingredients took to one another. 
> 
> "I'm sorry, but did you say blood-cough? As in just coughing up blood? How is that any different than Sam," Dean snapped lowly. 
> 
> Rasplin growled fiercely. "Because things were different in that case, alright?" There was a malice to his words that didn't allow for further discussion.

Suddenly feeling weak, Dean fell back when his legs could no longer hold him. Rasplin's gaze disappeared back to what he was doing, making sure all the ingredients took to one another. 

"I'm sorry, but did you say blood-cough? As in just coughing up blood? How is that any different than Sam," Dean snapped lowly. 

Rasplin growled fiercely. "Because things were different in that case, alright?" There was a malice to his words that didn't allow for further discussion. 

"Is it ready yet," Dean muttered. It was one thing if he was abrupt when someone else was talking. It was a completely new thing if he was the one being cut off.

Rasplin looked at the concoction. It didn't look terrible, but it didn't look appetizing either. He doubted Sam would find it very enjoyable; that was even if they could get him to take it and not bring it back up. 

"He'll need to drink all of it down," Rasplin explained curtly.

Dean picked up the bowl and tipped it into a tall glass. He filled it to the brim, the thick liquid sloshing back and forth and threatening to spill over the sides. Dean clasped a hand protectively around it, holding it close. The effort that Rasplin had went to gather all of these made the drink that much coveted. 

"Better him than me. I don't think I could."

"Then let's hope your brother has less of a gag reflex then you do." Rasplin pushed the bowl aside, shaking out his fur in the process. His thoughts drifted back to Rosie, who was alone in StarBound cleaning up after him. Rasplin just hoped that Dean and Sam appreciated all that he had to go through just to get this for them.

Dean led Rasplin down the hall and back to Sam's room. The younger Winchester was sitting propped up in his bed. He was no longer coughing, but his ashen pallor and shortness of breath did nothing to soothe Rasplin's worries. 

"Rasplin, has something for you, Sammy," Dean exclaimed, forcing excitement in his voice. 

"Like what?" He turned to see Rasplin standing at the entrance, wavering a moment until Dean nudged his toe against Rasplin's haunch. His paws skidded forward, slipping against the hard ground. The sickly scent mingled with blood sent Rasplin's senses reeling. 

Dean looked to the vile mixture in front of him, quickly realizing he had no way to explain it. Sam looked to him with eyebrows raised while Dean pivoted to look back at Rasplin. "Um, a little help here?" 

Rasplin didn't move. 

"Rasplin? Rasplin!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harsh coughing sounded at the back of the den as Rasplin walked down the long, seemingly never-ending tunnel in front of him. His breath felt hot on his paws while his eyes struggled to adjust to the light. The only scent that he could pick up was that of blood and the sour tang of sickness. It caused his eyes to water uncontrollably. 

"Rasplin!"

Rasplin blinked the liquid from his gaze to see a dark brown Wolvy with thick black markings and a jagged scar that stretched from his forehead, over his eye, and down to his chest and shoulder laying in front of him. He was curled in a nest make of bracken and moss. His thinning body trembled with each ragged cough that shook his entire body. Each cough brought on an equally chilling gasp when he tried to take in breath, only to have it forced from his lungs from another cough. 

A small, pretty brindle she-wolf laid beside him. Her brilliant green eyes with golden specks didn't waver from the Wolvy beside her. "Please, Rasplin, you have to save him."

Rasplin stopped a tail-length from them upon hearing the male Wolvy cough again. The fur along his spine stood on end. "I've tried everything that I know," Rasplin protested. "There's nothing else that I can do."

A growl rolled in the she-wolf's throat. "There must me! You can give him more herbs!"

"I've given him everything in my stores," Rasplin added gravely. "Nothing is working."

Her forest green eyes widened. "You have to! You have to do something! You have to—" 

The larger paw of the Wolvy beside her rested on top of her own. "Hush, Rosie," he breathed, voice broken and hoarse. "You heard Rasplin. There's nothing else that he can do. I would tell another Wolvy the same thing if I was healer in his position.”

Rosie flattened her ears against her head. "Hush you," she chided softly. She touched her nose to his forehead. "Rasplin has got to do something, anything!"

"There's nothing more that I can do," interrupted Rasplin gravely. He couldn't bring himself to look at the trembling Wolvy in front of him. He had known him better when he was strong and a little harsh. This sickly Wolvy was someone that Rasplin hardly recognized. "I'm so sorry, Redscar."

"You won't even come in here," Rosie hissed, fur spiking along her spine. 

Redscar butted his head weakly against her chest. "Rasplin had a newborn pup at home. I wouldn't want him to get any closer either," he pointed out.

"Then what about me? I'm not sick," Rosie pointed out defiantly. 

"That's just blind luck. There's no telling what would happen if Rasplin caught this and brought it back to his mate and daughter." Redscar's feverish gaze took on a faraway look. "We don't have that luxury anymore."

A howl of anguish rose from Rosie's throat. "That's not true! Cleo will always be our daughter," she argued.

Patience showed in Redscar's remaining eye. He leaned forward to press his forehead to Rosie's, swallowing a painful cough. "She will be, but she's not here anymore, and I'm afraid I'm about to join her." 

"No." Rosie's voice broke. 

Rasplin lowered his head into his shoulder. "I'll leave you two in private." He slid out the same way that he had come in. He leaped clear of the entrance, slinking into the nearest clump of undergrowth to lower down and press his paw over his muzzle as sobs threatened to tear through him. 

"Rasplin?"

Rasplin glanced up when he heard his name, quickly rubbing the fur on either side of his muzzle. He straightened to see Rosie standing a tail-length away, still hovering by the entrance. 

"Oh, Rosie," Rasplin barked with a cough to clear his throat. "I didn't expect you to follow me." 

She shrugged. "I just wanted to thank you for everything that you did for Redscar during this whole thing. You were one of the only Wolvys I know that came to see him after he first got sick."

Rasplin shuffled his paws bashfully. "It was nothing, really. I just wish that I could've done more."

"Me too." Rosie sighed, shoulders slumping. "But, I secretly think that this is what Redscar wants."

Rasplin stretched his eyes wide in horror. "That's not true! Redscar would never choose death when you're here with him," he growled forcefully. 

Rosie didn't seem the least bit taken aback by his reaction. If anything, it brought a glimmer of amusement to her eyes. "You don't think that Redscar is secretly excited to be rid of me?"

"Of course not! He would never—"

"I'm kidding." Rosie lifted her wings in defeat. "Great StarBound you're sensitive!"

Rasplin pulled his ears back. "I'm not—" 

"I know." Rosie chuckled, rolling her eyes at Rasplin's flustered nature. Her gaze grew more somber when she spoke next. "I know that Redscar loves me and would spend the rest of his life with me, but he hasn't seen our daughter in so long. I know how he misses her and I know how tired he is of fighting. Blood-cough is devastating in more ways than one. It won't be long before he goes downhill fast." 

Rasplin nodded gravely. "You know that if I could do anything more, that I would, right?"

"Of course I know that, Rasplin. Redscar was your mentor, and I know that you would do anything for him." Her gaze burned into his. "You would do anything if you had it available, wouldn't you?"

‘Does she know,’ Rasplin thought, heart beating almost out of his chest. He let out a deep breath to calm himself. "You know that I would." 

Another coughing fit sounded from within their den. Rosie turned in that direction, her fur lifting along her thin shoulders. "I should go. Once he gets that way, he won't stop." She didn't say anything more as she headed into the tunnel and disappeared from view. 

The coughing continued, aided with gasps. Rasplin plastered his ears against his head so that he didn't have to hear as he turned and disappeared back into the forest, turning his back on the Wolvy that had helped shape him into what he was today.


	8. Am I Listening?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Rasplin," Dean called. 
> 
> "I'm sorry," Rasplin muttered gruffly over his shoulder without looking back. "I cannot help you."

"Earth to Rasplin!"

Rasplin strode forward without looking to Dean. Sam drew back hesitatingly as Rasplin leaped onto the bed beside him. "Lean forward," he instructed, allowing the pain of his thoughts to leave him as he took on something that he could control. 

Sam knew better than to argue, especially after Rasplin had come here just for him. He leaned forward with a look to Dean. His brother shrugged, setting the glass on the edge of the end table to watch what Rasplin was doing. 

Rasplin pressed his ear against Sam's chest, hearing the harsh and congested wheeze. Each breath threatened to trigger another coughing fit. Rasplin pulled his head from his back, whiskers twitching low on his face. He looked into Sam's gaze, with Sam breaking contact relatively quickly in fear. 

"Well," Dean pressed. 

Rasplin flicked his muzzle to the glass. "You'll need to drink all that down and keep it down. I don't care how you do it, but it's imperative that you do. It may just keep you alive long enough to keep you on this insufferable path." He leaped down from the bed, arching his back in a quick stretch. 

"Rasplin," Dean called. 

"I'm sorry," Rasplin muttered gruffly over his shoulder without looking back. "I cannot help you."

He padded from the room and down the hall. Vibrations echoed on the floor that signaled Dean's approach. Rasplin didn't slow even when he heard Dean calling his name behind him. 

"Rasplin!" Dean swore loudly. He managed to catch up with Rasplin when he headed into the control area. He jumped in front of him, so that Rasplin was forced to look at him. "Stop it, damnit! What the Hell was that?!"

Rasplin looked past Dean, his head lifted. A knot tightened in his stomach, nearly doubling him over. "I told you that I would come and see him and I did. There's nothing I can do. I'm leaving." 

"Rasplin." Dean reached out a hand and grabbed Rasplin's leg as Rasplin walked around him. 

Quick as a flash, Rasplin reared on his hind legs, wing lifted to press it against the back of Dean's neck. Dean tried to push it down, but Rasplin was quicker. He leaped and turned, thrusting both of his paws against Dean's shoulders to shove him to the ground with his wing still pressed heavily on his throat. Dean tried to twist, but he halted when he felt hot breath against his cheek, sparking goosebumps to sprout on his upper arms. A snarl sounded from Rasplin while his claws reached deep into the flesh. 

"R-Rasplin," Dean sputtered.

With a frustrated grunt, Rasplin lifted his weight from Dean's shoulders and leapt from him. He landed on the ground easily, fur hardly ruffled. "I would think very long and hard wether or not you want to do that again," he muttered.

"Yep, definitely don't." Dean sat up with his legs outstretched in front of him. He gripped his hands around his neck and chin, shifting it until he felt it crack. "How many times are we going to have interactions like that?”

Rasplin's eyes hardened. "As long as you feel the need to reach out and grab me," he answered stiffly. 

Dean pondered his case for a moment. "Okay, I can live with that. I just wanted to talk, man. No judgement, just talking."

That was how it started. Rasplin wasn't about to allow Dean to guilt trip him into being vulnerable. He had already risked so much for them. "He's not well, Dean."

"I'm aware of that," Dean replied shortly, rubbing at the side of his neck tiredly. 

Rasplin sunk his claws against the floor of the bunker, feeling his claws almost splinter from the force he was exhuming on them. "No, I don't think that you are. I didn't realize until I looked into his eyes."

"You can tell what's wrong with him by his eyes? That's freaking cool." Disgruntled impatience showed on Rasplin's face. "What sort of thing can you tell?" 

"Have you ever heard the old belief that eyes are the window to the soul?" 

Dean tipped his head. "Uh, yeah, of course I do. Are you here to tell me that you can see his soul?"

"I'm a Hellhound. I only deal in souls." Rasplin lowered his muzzle to nibble at a patch of fur that still had a strip of caked mud smothered in it. "It wasn't just the soul that I can see. I can see the damage to his soul and to his body. It's not good, Dean. It's worse than I ever could've thought." 

Just the thought that Rasplin, who had pulled Dean from Hell, lost his mate and daughter, and had endured more pain than Dean could even fathom, would say that whatever was going on with Sam was worse than all of that, did not strike Dean as good. 

"Worse? How worse?" 

"I have no doubt that Sam will complete the Trials. He certainly is that stubborn," Rasplin muttered.

Dean snapped his fingers to bring Rasplin back to the topic at hand. "How worse, Rasplin?"

Rasplin met Dean's gaze. Dean struggled not to look away when he saw the loss that showed in Rasplin's dark crimson eyes. "Worse as in that I don't believe anything nor anyone will be able to save him." 

Horror as sharp as knives felt as though they were puncturing Dean right in the heart. He wasn't sure if it was the words that Rasplin spoke, or the heaviness at which he spoke that jolted him the most. He may not know Rasplin all that well, but he knew that he didn't overreact. If he thought that Sam was too far gone and that these Trails were a one way ticket to death, there was no doubt in Dean's mind that he was right.

"That's what Cas said," Dean murmured, half to himself.

Rasplin twitched his left shredded ear. "Then my input must have solidified this for you." 

Dean looked away from Rasplin, concentrating on a flickering light over by the control panel. "Yeah, guess it did." There was more malice than he intended, flowing from his words as naturally as breathing. 

Rasplin leaned over to touch his nose to Dean's shoulder. The eldest Winchester nearly jumped from the touch before realizing he didn't want to spook Rasplin. "I am sorry, Dean. There's just nothing that I can do. I just hope I didn't make things worse."

"And how would you do that?" 

"The Trials were from God to purify anyone who would attempt to close the gates of Hell. I'm certainly all for that, but I am far from pure, Dean." When Dean looked at him in confusion, Rasplin continued quickly. "A former Hellhound is still a Hellhound. I still bleed the same and have the same red eyes. Me being close enough to Sam could make the effects worse for him. Contrary to what you believe, I don't wish your brother any ill will." 

"No, I know that. What about that drink thing? Will that still work?" Dean didn't want to force Sam to drink that if it wasn't going to do any good.

Rasplin nodded surely. "That should still give him some extra energy and help him for the time being until he can finish the Trials." His eyes grew hungry and fierce when he leaned forward to whisper into Dean's ear. "But he must finish the Trails."

Dean lifted his hand in a show of defeat to the broad shouldered Wolvy. "You don't have to worry about that. Sam's much too stubborn to back out." 

Rasplin wanted to point out that it wouldn't matter whether Sam completed the Trials or not; his fate was sealed either way. There wasn't anything that Rasplin could say or do to make it better. The best thing that he felt he could do for Sam and Dean was to get out of their hair before he brought any unwanted attention their way. He may not have lived in StarFire for a while, but he could still be honed in on with the right skill set by Wolvys or Hellhounds.

"Make sure he drinks that all down. He has to eat as much as he can even if he brings it back up. Keep his fever down and let him cough up the blood instead of swallowing it. Don't let him do more than he can handle even if he insists. You can also—"  
  
"Tell me again why you can't stay," Dean interrupted. He knew how to take care of Sammy, sure, but not in the same way that Rasplin could. Healing was what Rasplin had grown into after leaving his life in StarFire behind. He was the one that could help Sam more than Dean ever could when it came to this. He didn't care what Rasplin said; he needed him here. 

"Dean." The way that Rasplin growled his name sent shivers up Dean's spine. 

"Can you just stay for the night? Recharge your batteries and maybe get something to eat?" He saw the way Rasplin looked at his stomach and heard the slight rumble. He was clearly considering it. "This place is the safest place on earth and maybe even more-so than StarBound. You gotta trust me, please."

Rasplin could think of a multitude of reasons for leaving and not many for staying. However, Rasplin couldn't argue with his stomach or with Dean's pleas. He just hoped to StarBound that this didn't cause them even more pain.

"Just the the night," Rasplin growled.

Dean's shoulders, which had been hunched up in tension, lowered in pure relief. “Then how about you get him to drink whatever the Hell that is and I'll make some burgers? I bet you'll like that meat even more once it's cooked."

Rasplin didn't have the heart to tell Dean that he certainly wouldn't. He just decided to let him go. "I'll go and see to Sam."

He was just about to turn when he sensed that Dean had something more he wanted to say. Rasplin reluctantly looked back. "What?"

"Don't say any of that soul thing to him, okay? Don't want to freak him out, you hear?"

"I hear." Rasplin continued to jog back down the hallway. Every part of him told him it was a bad idea and he wasn't listening to reason. He was going against every instinct that he held dear, and for what? The affection of two humans that would drop him at the moment he turned inconvenient. 

Rasplin closed his eyes tightly, muscles moving in one fluid motion across the bunker floor. "I hear," Rasplin repeated to no one in particular. "But, am I listening?"


	9. Power From A Liquid Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Maybe not, but I know that I will fight like Lupus himself to live everyday with you," she reassured, her tail kinked over her back. "You don't have to worry about loosing me or Mina. We'll always be with you and that's a promise."

Rasplin stopped at the entrance to his den, fur slicked back against his pelt to shield himself for the rain that had begun to steadily fall. It splashed onto his black fur, causing it to flatten against his body. The run hadn't warded off the chill as much as Rasplin hoped. It had only served to help him arrive home quicker, which was considered a win in his eyes.

He pushed the boulder aside just enough to force his way through, pieces of his fur becoming snagged until he pulled them free. 

His muddy paws landed on the stone floor, sending an echo through the halls. Rasplin turned to roll the boulder back into place. The den was bathed back into darkness. His eyes quickly adjusted as if he was still walking in the sunlight before he plunged forward into the winding tunnels. He didn't struggle to find where he was going for he had made this journey more times than he could count. 

It wasn't long before the sweet scent of milk reached his nose. He followed that scent until it grew strong enough to knock him over. He slowed to a fast walk to round the corner and see a beautiful silver and white she-wolf nestled in a bracken and moss nest, tufts of white and light brown down pressed against the edges. Her long muzzle was turned down to nuzzle the small bundle of gray and white fur tucked protectively against her underbelly, suckling happily. 

As soon as pawsteps approached, the gray and white she-wolf lifted her head. Her hackles immediately relaxed once she realized who it was. "Oh, Rasplin," she rumbled pleasurably. "You're back. How did it go?" 

Just the first question made Rasplin shift uncomfortably. "Fine," he mumbled.

The she-wolf tilted her head. She knew Rasplin better than anyone and certainly knew when he was attempting to hide something from her. He had never been good at lying to her. It was a skill she could always count on to unearth what often got under Rasplin's pelt. 

She looked down to the pup, who had rolled away from the she-wolf's stomach and was laying on her side. The she-wolf stooped down to lick her daughter between the ears before rising to her paws. She stepped over the edge of her nest and padded over to Rasplin. 

Her tail threaded under Rasplin's jaw, pulling him forward. "Walk with me," she instructed. 

"What about Mina," Rasplin fretted with a look over her shoulder to their daughter. "Shouldn't we stay with her, Meadowslip?"

"She'll be fine for a few heartbeats. Besides, you think that we can't hear any noise that she makes in this den," she teased, beginning to lead Rasplin down the dark corridors. 

Rasplin settled beside her, matching her movements stride by stride. He snaked his tail to brush against hers so that their wiry hairs just touched. Meadowslip curled her tail around his, shoulders touching as they walked along together. Meadowslip's head lowered momentarily and nudged her muzzle against he back of Rasplin's ear, the dark furred Wolvy leaning back against Meadowslip's feather-soft touch. 

"Tell me what really happened," Meadowslip pressed, her voice like silk.

Rasplin felt his heart splinter in his chest. "Redscar is going to to die, Meadowslip, and there's nothing that I can do."

"You've done your best," Meadowslip pointed out with conviction in her voice. "There's nothing more that you can do."

"He's like a father to me, Meadowslip," Rasplin growled, longing to pull away. Yet the more he wanted to, the more he felt himself leaning in back to her. "And he's going to die." 

Meadowslip's brilliant blue eyes rounded in concern. "I'm so sorry, Rasplin. How is Rosie taking it?"

"Better than I suspected. She knows that Redscar's time is limited and she made peace with that. That's something I could never do." 

"I'm sure you could if the need arouse."

Rasplin didn't even want to think about anything happening to his beloved Meadowslip. "I still wish I would've done more. I could've done more!"

"Rasplin, I know that you feel this way, but you couldn't have. You can't save anyone, no one can." She paused as Rasplin pulled away from her and started to pace adjacent to her. His head was thrown back and forth as low grunts left his lip. "There's something else, isn't here?"

Rasplin gritted his teeth together enough to nearly splinter them. "What is that happens to us, huh? What if that happens to Mina?" 

"We contract blood-cough?"

"Not just blood-cough. Anything!" Rasplin's pacing only increased until he was touching each wall to hurtle himself back to the other. 

Meadowslip jumped in front of him, nearly pushing him back to break the cycle. "Rasplin, I don't know what you mean."

Rasplin halted, front legs outstretched. His gaze was cold, unflinching, as he looked to his mate. "What would I do if anything happened to you?" 

"Is this what's been bothering you? You're worried about what will happen if we die?" Meadowslip's eyes seemed gentle when she noticed how torn up Rasplin was over this. "Rasplin, we're not going anywhere."

"You can't know that," Rasplin protested, a catch in his throat. "I wouldn't be as strong as Rosie. I need you with me!"

"And I will be." Meadowslip ran her muzzle along the side of Rasplin's neck so he could feel that she was near. "I'm not going anywhere, Rasplin." 

Rasplin stomped a single paw. "You can't know that."

"Maybe not, but I know that I will fight like Lupus himself to live everyday with you," she reassured, her tail kinked over her back. "You don't have to worry about loosing me or Mina. We'll always be with you and that's a promise."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rasplin headed into Sam's room to find the Winchester slumped over the side of the bed, an arm dangling over the side. Gentle snores rose from him as if he was fighting for breath. The scent of sickness was still thick like a cloud around him, but Rasplin fought through it to walk forward.

He stopped at the edge of the bed and leaned upward, nose tilted upward. He pressed it to Sam's cheek and felt the younger Winchester spring to life. He sat upright, hands snapping back to place them over his ears as if he heard a great noise. It took him a few moments of blinking his eyes furiously to remember where he was. 

"R-Rasplin," he stammered in surprise, coughing dry into the back of his fist.

Rasplin dipped his head. "Ready for that drink now?" There was no point in prolonging the inevitable. 

Sam took a couple moments to register exactly what Rasplin was saying. His gaze drifted to the tall glass with the grayish brown sludge of a drink. "Can I ask what's in it?" 

"Why don't you drink it first." Rasplin had learned from experience that it away always best that they ate first and then he would tell them what they ate after. At least then there wasn't much choice that their body would reject the drink. 

Sam looked around for Dean, but when he couldn't find him, he shrugged and stretched over the nightstand to grab it. The liquid was cool to the touch as if it had been left out in the snow. Sam rolled his wrist, watching as the substance oozed and streamed like honey in front of him. It had no smell even as bubbles broke the surface. 

"This isn't going to hurt me or anything, will it," Sam fretted, eyebrows knit together in concentration. 

Rasplin shook his head, paw lifted to scrape at a stubborn tuft of fur behind one of his ears. "No, it won't. I can't tell you it'll taste good, because it won't, but it certainly won't harm you." He scrutinized Sam under fire bright eyes, finally resting them on Sam's eyes. "Not that much else can make this any worse."

Sam opened his mouth to ask Rasplin to clarify, but he stopped himself. He looked once more at the glass before lifting it slightly in a manner that Rasplin recognized humans sometimes did before drinking something, usually alcohol to celebrate something in their lives. 

Sam brought to glass to his lips and began to drink it down, opening his throat so that it could slide down without much resistance. The taste was bitter and cold. Sam longed to throw the glass aside and bring up whatever this was back up, but he wasn't about to try under Rasplin's burning gaze. Luckily, he was able to down the entire glass, slamming the empty glass on the nightstand.

A shudder passed through Sam as he wrapped his arms around his midsection. "Ugh, what was that," he asked, mouth watering while his stomach threatened to revolt. Cramps squeezed his stomach, bile leapt into his throat, and spurted into the back of his mouth. Frantic swallows were the only thing that kept that drink where it was supposed to be.

"Coltsfoot, lavender stalks, tansy, borage, wing oil, and liquid from a StarPool," Rasplin rambled off, scratching behind his ear with his hind leg against his neck. He could feel moons of knots in his thick pelt from his lack of effort in personal grooming. 

If Sam hadn't felt sick before, he certainly did now. "Wing oil? Like from an angel?" 

"Wolvy actually," Rasplin corrected.

Sam's hands balled into fists at his side. "Do I even want to know how they got wing oil from a Wolvy?"

Rasplin lowered his hand leg from his neck, tufts of his fur caught in his claws. "Probably not. The Wolvy felt no pain if that's what you're worried about. It was collected after they were dead."

"Yeah, that makes it better." Sam shook his hair from his eyes. "And what about liquid from a StarPool? What is that?"

"Sometimes a fallen star will fall into StarBound's territory and mix in the right conditions with a small pool and turn it into liquid starlight. It's quite rare and very difficult to find," Rasplin explained. There was no need to tell Sam exactly how he had come to find it with the help of Rosie. Rasplin had found it was best to keep his StarBound life and life here with the Winchesters as separate as possible.

Sam's eyes widened. "So, I just drank a liquid star?"

"More or less. It should give you strength and preserve it for at least a little while. It's not a cure, mind you, but it should help you get through the rest of these Trails." Rasplin's voice was strained and curt, his gaze wandering back to the empty glass. That was his only wing oil and he had forced a cave in by the StarPool. He just hoped Sam appreciated what Rasplin had to do and give up for him.

Sam could tell Rasplin was a little off by the way he stood and how his attention wasn't quite where it should be. "And that's a good thing, right?" 

Before Rasplin could answer, Dean appeared at the door with a spatula in one hand and an apron tied at his waist. Sam chuckled while Rasplin looked him quizzically.

"Dean, what are you doing," Sam asked.

"Saw this on Food Network. C'mon! Dinner is ready." Dean turned and headed back down the hallway, singing along to some song Rasplin didn't know.

Rasplin waited patiently as Sam threw the covers back from his legs and pivoted so his feet just grazed the ground from the side of the bed. He stood up slowly, using the bed to steady himself. Rasplin held his breath, half expecting the tall man to crumple. To both of their surprise, Sam's knees didn't buckle. He was able to keep himself upright as he took another step forward. 

The former Hellhound perched at the end of the bed before stretched out his front paws to the ground, pulling his haunches with him. He strode to Sam's side, watching every buckle of his knees or weak twitch of his calves. 

A sudden unsteady step caused Sam's right let to buckle. He would've fallen if not for Rasplin, who saw the instability first and immediately pressed against him until his leg straightened to hold him once more. 

Sam stole a glance at Rasplin, surprise brimming in his eyes. "Er, thanks." 

"Don't mention it," huffed Rasplin. The scent of meat made his mouth water and nearly pool from his lax jaws. His stomach growled even after he ate less than a few hours ago. 

Through the cloud of scent wafting from the kitchen, Rasplin was pleased that he could no longer smell the sour, bitter sickly scent rising from Sam. He wasn't cured by any means, but Rasplin hoped he and bought him some time to finish the Trials. After all, he was closing the gates of Hell and that was something that must happen.


	10. Meal and Meddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rasplin may felt the need to help Sam and Dean, but that doesn’t mean his trust is readily earned.

Rasplin bowed his head, sniffing at the meal that Dean had laid at his paws. A thick, glistening patty of meat was nestled between two pieces of bread with a tomato and shred of lettuce rested on top. Grease oozed from the hamburger, soaking into strips of potato that Dean had called 'French fries'. Rasplin wasn't one to usually eat anything that wasn't freshly caught prey, but it would be rude at least not to try it. 

Sam and Dean had their own plates and sat at the table. Dean's hamburger was stacked high with bacon, cheese, and some sort of red and yellow liquid mixing with the grease to ooze down the sides. Sam's was more plain and looked almost like Rasplin's. Sam didn't appear as ravenously hungry as Dean or Rasplin, but he would certainly try to eat. 

Dean picked up his burger to take a monstrous bite just as Rasplin bowed his head over his meal. "Thank you StarBound for this prey." 

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance with Dean setting his burger down, despite the growling in his stomach. "Amen!"

Rasplin looked at them quizzically. "You don't thank anyone for your meal?"  
  
"Yeah, I thank myself." Dean pointed a thumb at his chest. "Who else would I need to thank, the cow?"

Sam rolled his eyes. He gripped the edges of his burger and brought it up to his mouth. He took a bite, allowing the succulent meat to almost melt in his mouth. 

"Wolvys thank StarBound for their prey. Some even thank God. After all, they were the ones that allowed prey to be caught." Rasplin's tongue licked his chomps, the scent of burger becoming more and more tempting every passing heartbeat. 

Dean grabbed his burger and took a bite, nearly dripping grease and sauce onto his lap. "I say that's overrated, but you do what you want." 

Rasplin didn't expect the Winchesters to buy into his customs. They had their own way of doing things and it seemed to work well for them. They weren't the ones starving. 

"What about Lupus," mumbled Dean around another bite.

Rasplin scooped up one of the French fries with his teeth. It was salty and sweet at the same time, melting into a pool of liquid in his mouth. "What about him?"

"Sammy and I just hear you mutter about him sometimes," Dean explained, pointing to Sam to back him up. The youngest Winchester nodded, his attention more turned onto his meal.

Rasplin swallowed the French fri before going in for the burger. He tore a chunk easily thanks to his impressive canines. Cooked hamburger wasn't nearly as tough as squirrel or rabbit. Rasplin barely had any trouble ripping it free. While he chewed, he thought of the best answer to Dean's and Sam's question.

"Lupus was the Alpha of all Wolvys. He helped them settle in StarBound and gave them new purpose away from angels." Rasplin swallowed the meaty mouthful down quickly. "He was Gabriel's Wolvy and they were inseparable. That was until an angel attack killed him while he was only trying to defend his den and mate. Some say that was the final straw that pushed Gabriel into leaving heaven. But, it's all speculation and rumor really."

The rest of the meal was silent as all three of them finished their plates, even Sam. Dean had tried to force Sam to take seconds, but Sam had strongly insisted he didn't want it. Rasplin took his seconds instead, finishing as many burgers as Dean would give him. Dean made a mental note to see if he could go to the store later and stock up on as much raw meat as they would allow him to. He knew that Rasplin was only staying the night, but he wanted to send him back to StarBound as strong as he possibly could.

"Who's up for a movie night," Dean asked once he had cleared everyone's plates from the table and set them in the sink.

"Movie night?" Rasplin had heard of these as human enjoyment, but StarBound didn't have anything like it. Their lives were too unpredictable and tense to allow anything that could distract them. 

Dean looked to Rasplin as if he had sported two heads. "Yeah, movie night. You know like John Wayne or Batman? Star Wars if you're a nerd like Sammy."

"Er, no." 

Dean came over to clap Sam on the back. "Well, you're in luck that we have the most extensive collection ever discovered! How about you two set up shop in my room and I'll be in with some popcorn and beers?"

Rasplin wasn't about to point out that the last thing he ever wanted was that foul liquid that turned to venom in his throat. He supposed that if Dean was offering for him to stay and as ‘one of the guys' he should jump on that opportunity. Dean didn't extend those to everyone.

Sam stood up from the table with more much strength than before. Rasplin noticed with a hint of pride how his legs seemed stronger and moved with more fluidity. His fever had certainly went down and while he still coughed, they weren't nearly as filled with congestion as before. Rasplin wasn't sure what part of the drink was working the best, but he was thankful something was.

The two headed down the hallway side by side. Rasplin noted with a hint of triumph that he could pick out nearly every inch of the bunker. He could find the bedrooms, kitchen, laundry room, gun range, garage, lab, and a few other rooms that hadn't been designation yet. However, what he was really looking forward to was when Dean and Sam went to bed so that he could sneak back down to the records room. There was still that box of information on Hellhounds or Wolvys that he'd like to go through. Rasplin doubted that Sam or Dean would use any information in there against him, but it would still be best if he read through it first. 

Sam stopped by Dean's door and headed into his room. He wrinkled his nose at the unmade bed and piles of clothes strewn about the room. "Sorry, Rasplin. Apparently Dean doesn't realize that you're supposed to pick up when guests are here." 

"I hardly think I qualify as a guest." The scent of grief and fear was almost thicker than the scent of body odor and testosterone. Whatever Sam had been thinking Dean was doing in here, Rasplin was sure he wasn't. This was the room of a man who was desperate. He had been desperate when he cried out to Rasplin and it didn't appear that things had changed.

Sam had taken to throwing the comforter over the bed and smoothed it down to the best of his ability. "That should work, I guess." Sam jumped onto Dean's bed, feeling the Memory Foam mattress topper mold around him. "Oh, and if you find any sort of magazine, don't touch it!"

Rasplin didn't bother to ask Sam when he meant. He jumped onto the foot of the bed, feeling it soften when he laid down. It would be a struggle for Rasplin to go back to sleeping in his cold den with moss and bracken for a nest instead of pillows and blankets. Yet, that was the life Rasplin had been born into and would happy to go back to once this was all over. 

"Thanks." 

It was so out of the blue that Rasplin almost forgot who could've said that or that they were speaking to him. His head lifted from where it had been rested on his haunch to stare back at Sam. The youngest Winchester was picking at his nails, looking anywhere but at Rasplin. His shaggy hair was still wild while a cough left his lips. It didn't shake him like before or bring up mouthfuls of blood. Rasplin counted that as progress.   
  
"For what," he asked plainly.

"For everything." Sam rubbed the back fo his neck uncomfortably. "I mean, you came here and then brought all that stuff. I know it couldn't have been easy."

Rasplin sighed, resting his head onto his paws, and faced away from Sam. "It's what I do, as a healer. You don't need to thank me."

"Yeah, well, just thought I would. I know how important being a healer is for you. To use this stuff on me must've taken a lot of thought." 

"Why would you say that?"

"You don't have to pretend with me, Rasplin. I'm not your favorite person."

Rasplin snorted in mock amusement. "I only know two people personally, you and Dean. I have spent more time with Dean, but that doesn't mean you're the least favorite human I will ever meet."

"Figures," muttered Sam. What was it with powerful beings being drawn to his brother? "I still appreciate what you did."

Rasplin didn't answer. 

"Is there something else that you're not telling me," Sam pressed when the silence stretched on for a few more moments.

Rasplin grunted, whipping his head around to glare in Sam's direction. "It is your intention to shut the gates of Hell?"

Sam blinked his eyes quickly, mouth going dry as he fumbled for an answer. "Y-Yes."

"Then I hope that StarBound gives you strength." His ear pivoted when he heard Dean in the hall. "You'll certainly need it."

A tremor of fear worked its way down Sam's spine while Dean waltzed in two beers in one hand and a bowl of freshly made popcorn doused in butter in the other.

"I'm thinking The Godfather or Good Will Hunting," Dean suggested, jumping onto his bed and toeing off his shoes. His foot pushed against Rasplin's spine, poking him firmly. Rasplin wasn't used to sharing a sleeping place with anyone or anything. He instinctively rose to his paws to jump down when Dean shoved the bowl of popcorn into his brother's lap and leaned forward, blocking Rasplin from jumping down from the bed. 

"Where are you going?" 

"It seems to be a little cramped up here," Rasplin pointed out.

Dean scoffed. "Uh, yeah, that's kind of the idea." Rasplin gave him a blank look. "You get close and you watch a movie, eat some popcorn." He reached his hand into the bowl and threw a few pieces of popcorn at Rasplin. They hit his muzzle, yet Rasplin didn't react. "And just hang out." 

"Hang out?" 

"C'mon, you're telling me that you never just hung out? Like with Meadowslip or something?"

Rasplin's gaze held fire when Dean mentioned the name of his mate. "You are no Meadowslip," he replied, pulling himself to lay back down at the foot of the bed. This time he clustered so close to the end that he was almost wrapped around the footboard. He didn't want Dean nor Sam to touch him, especially not at the moment. 

Sam fixed Dean with a drawn glare. After the concoction that Rasplin had forced Sam to drink, he was getting some of his fire back. "What did you do that for?" 

"What did I do what for," Dean hissed back, well aware that Rasplin could probably near them no matter how low he whispered. 

"Bringing up Meadowslip," Sam whispered back. He stole a look at Rasplin, who had his paws tucked under him and head rested on his paws. 

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing his fingers into the corners of his eyes. "I've brought her up before. It's like something has switched since...." 

"Since what," Sam urged. 

Dean shook his head. "Nevermind. Since nothing." He grabbed the remote to the TV and turned it on, flooding the room in a white light. "How about we watch Batman Begins instead? That's a real good one. That sound good to you, Rasplin?"

Rasplin twitched an ear. 

"I think that's alright with him," surmised Sam for him.

"Alright." Dean pressed on the movie as he saw it pass by on the TV. "Here we go."


	11. Box Of Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rasplin finally finds what is in the box in the Men of Letters Bunker.

It was about halfway through the movie when Rasplin realized that Sam and Dean were both sound asleep. He looked back to see Dean fallen forward on Sam's shoulder while Sam was strewn over Dean. The taller Winchester had his cheek rested on top of Dean's head while the bowl of popcorn kernels spilled between them. Snores rose from Sam thanks to his lingering congestion while Dean mumbled in his sleep. If Rasplin didn't know better then he would've thought that Dean was in the middle of a nightmare.

Gently, Rasplin rose to his paws and jumped down from the bed. He froze, half expecting Dean or Sam to wake up due to their hunter instincts. However, neither one of them stirred. 

Rasplin lowered down so that his underbelly touched the ground. He slid forward with muscles tight in case he needed to spring forward. His paws touched the ground lightly until he crept from the room, the door nearly creaking as he pushed his way out and into the hallway. 

Paws streaking under him, he put on a burst of speed to put as much distance between the Winchesters and himself as possible. If he wanted to learn the truth of what was in those archives about his kind, then he would need to be quick. There was no telling when either one of them would wake. It didn't look to be a very comfortable position that they had fallen asleep in. 

Once down the hall, Rasplin set down toward the basement. He leaped down two at a time, feeling his muscles strain against the effort at which he was forcing them to carry his weight. When his paws finally struck the cement ground, he padded back to the records. Darkness bathed him like a second pelt while his eyes barely fought to see through the darkness. Living in StarFire for his early life had meant that he could adjust to little to no light just as well as he could in blinding sunlight. 

He found his way to the box that he had stored earlier. He pulled it back into view, forcing his muzzle against the opening to pull the lid from the box. He reached his paws down inside to find one of the folders that he had seen earlier. He bypassed the film even as his claws grazed the tough edges. Rasplin threw the folder in front of him, lowering down to flip it open so that he could see what was written. A section had been ripped from it, but Rasplin could still read what was left. 

‘The specimen in question was found wandering the backroads of Wisconsin. There are no reports of killings in the area besides a few cows and other farmland livestock. A hunter brought it to us for examination to tell what it was. The creature looks like a normal wolf, perhaps a little larger. The most noteworthy thing about it is two massive wings that sprout from the back. They fold neatly on their backs. To the naked eye you may not even know that they are there, but make no mistake; these are no ordinary wolves. We found the best way to incapacitate them is to.....’

The rest of the page had been ripped clean from the bottom of the page. Rasplin allowed a lot growl to sound from his vocal cords. 

"You tortured a Wolvy to gain that information," Rasplin hissed. "A Wolvy who has done nothing to you."

Rasplin was sure that whatever else was in this box would only serve to bring him more anger and resentment. Reading would only remind him of that, no matter how he tried to justify it. While those Men of Letters had not been Sam or Dean, Rasplin doubted that they would've given him the time of day unless he had helped them the first time they had met. He had been reluctant to see Castiel again and had been agitated to find that the angel wanted him to do anything with the Winchesters. Rasplin had moved on from the pain that they had caused him, but he suddenly wondered whether or not it was a good idea to continue to pursue anymore relations with them. 

"Rasplin?" 

Rasplin turned sharply, right front paw pulled up to his chest and lips peeled back to show his fangs. His fur fluffed up along his spine and shoulders, making him seem much larger than he was. Saliva dripped from his fangs and onto the floor while his claws ticked against the ground.

The sound of a switch turning on greeted Rasplin's ears before the room was flooded with light. His eyes took a moment to adjust as he saw a bleary figure heading toward him. Blinking rapidly, the figure became less hazy with features that Rasplin could focus on such as deep green eyes and hair that picked up in few wiry tufts at the front. He was wearing flannel and jeans with brown boots. 

"Dean," Rasplin questioned, allowing his hackles to lower, fur following suit. Red eyes shadowed by anger faded to a soft crimson, holding the pain he had received from reading the folder only a moment ago, disappearing back to cold aura they usually held. 

Dean sunk to his knees, palms pressed to the cool ground. His gaze traveled to the folder tucked under one of Rasplin's massive paws, claws ground over the small letters written on the side. "What are you doing down here? I-I woke up and thought you left or something. I thought maybe Sam's snoring scared you off or something."

The light laughter that Dean attempted to add at the end did nothing to brighten Rasplin's outlook. "I needed a moment," he mumbled into his chest fur. 

"Yeah, I get that. Although, maybe next time you can just say something instead of making me check the entire bunker," Dean suggested, shifting his weight so that he was sitting cross legged in front of Rasplin. 

Rasplin blinked his eyes slowly. "You were looking for me?"

"Well, yeah. I thought you had left or something. I was worried." Dean winced as soon as the words had left him. There was no reason to make this any sappier than it already was. It seemed that the Trails weren't just effecting Sam. 

Rasplin's paws pattered against the slick ground until he forced his haunches under him as he sat. "I didn't think you'd look for me. I meant to be back before you or Sam woke up."

Dean kicked out his foot to bring the box toward him. "Is this what was so important you had to miss the last hour of Batman Begins?" He rifled through it, fingers stroking something sharp enough to draw blood. His hand shot back with Dean sticking the bleeding tip of his pointer finger into his mouth, sucking on the salty tang of blood. 

Rasplin picked up the folder in his teeth and set it back into the box. He forced his head against the box to push it to the back of the room. He pressed his forehead against the middle and used his nose to scoop up the bottom and force it onto the lowest shelf. "It doesn't matter. None of it matters."

Dean pulled his fingers from his mouth. "Does it have something to do with the Men of Letters? Because I can tell you that they're snobby assholes if that makes you feel any better." 

"No, it really doesn't." Rasplin drew back from the shelves, looking past Dean. He padded forward urgently. "We're not having this conversation." 

Dean stuck out his arm across from him before remembering what had happened last time he had put his hands on Rasplin. Instead, he lowered his arm, setting his jaw in frustration. "I won't touch you if you will just talk to me," Dean requested.

Rasplin stood adjacent to him, muscles hardening under ruffled fur. "And why should I do that?" 

"Ever since you got a look at Sam's soul you've been off. I don't know why, but I certainly know I can't help if you don't let me," snapped Dean, voice rising in indignation. 

"Who says I need your help?" His voice was cold, unchanging with his lip curling to the side when he spoke. 

Dean ran his tongue along his front teeth on the top of his mouth, jaws slightly parted. "Alright, you know what, do whatever the Hell you want. I don't give a damn. You can fuck off for all I care, Rasplin." He jumped to his feet and headed out of the basement, a single hand draw over his face while he muttered under his breath. Thunderous footsteps echoed away from Rasplin, who still was standing firm even as the light was shut off and the door was closed. 

Rasplin was left alone in his own thoughts, which was a very dangerous place for him to be.


	12. What Could Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rasplin raced through StarBound, the sound of a thousand snarling Hellhounds hot on his heels. He stole a glance back over his shoulder to see glowing red eyes advancing on him, jaws snapping and muscles firm. They had nothing to lose and everything to gain by dragging him back to StarFire to face eternal punishment for what he did. 
> 
> "Rasplin!"
> 
> Rasplin looked ahead to see the body of a silver and white she-wolf with her wings pulled from her body. Beside her, a small pup clutched onto her shoulders. It's tiny, pink mouth was gaped open as a wail rose from her. "Mama! Mama!"

It was a few hours later that Rasplin finally decided to venture back upstairs. He could tell by the stillness when he emerged from the basement that both Winchesters were asleep. He didn't blame them. It was nearly two in the morning. Ordinarily Rasplin would've been itching to sleep as well, but time moved much slower on earth, allowing Rasplin to stay up for days if need be. 

Against his better judgement, the thick furred Wolvy headed through the hallway leading to the bedrooms. He could tell by the sound of snores that Sam was still asleep, but he wasn't in his room. It seemed that Dean had left his brother where he was in his room so not to disturb him. 

Rasplin peeked his muzzle back into the door to see Sam laying sprawled in Dean's bed. The bowl of popcorn and fallen kernels had been removed and Dean had pulled off Sam's shoes. Sam's long limbs were hardly contained in the bed while his long hair was matted with sweat and stuck to the side of his face that was pressed into Dean's pillow. Rasplin watched the faint rise and fall of Sam's chest to make sure that the youngest Winchester was still breathing. 

His head tilted as his paws drew him closer. He then leaped onto the bed beside Sam, feeling it begin to dip under his weight. His fur stood on end, half expecting Sam to wake up and force him from the bed. However, when that didn't happen, Rasplin allowed himself to fully relax into the bed, eyes starting to close even as he faced the door. He was never going to be able to fully come to terms that the bunker was a safe place and that he didn't have to be on guard. 

While hearing the congested snores of the Winchester behind him, Rasplin allowed his mind to quiet so that he could sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rasplin raced through StarBound, the sound of a thousand snarling Hellhounds hot on his heels. He stole a glance back over his shoulder to see glowing red eyes advancing on him, jaws snapping and muscles firm. They had nothing to lose and everything to gain by dragging him back to StarFire to face eternal punishment for what he did. 

"Rasplin!"

Rasplin looked ahead to see the body of a silver and white she-wolf with her wings pulled from her body. Beside her, a small pup clutched onto her shoulders. It's tiny, pink mouth was gaped open as a wail rose from her. "Mama! Mama!"

A wail of his own rose from Rasplin’s throat. "Mina?" 

With a sudden burst of speed, Rasplin leaped over to a small ravine, leaving the snapping Hellhounds behind him. He didn't have time to feel relief as he slowed to a halt beside the she-wolf. Rasplin whimpered, crouching to press his nose into her neck fur to find her body cold, pulse faded to nothing.

"Meadowslip," he whispered. 

"Mama!"

Rasplin turned to look at Mina to find that her eyes had been burned from her skull. All that was left were two hollow indents, skin and fur charred to a crisp so that pieces of raw flesh threatened to peel back from her face. 

"Mina," Rasplin cried, stretching out his paw to touch her shoulder lightly. 

His paw barely touched her when Mina withdrew, yelping in terror. "Papa, that hurts," she complained, nose wrinkling.

Rasplin looked down where he had barely grazed her to see her fur turning black, running up her neck and down her foreleg, spreading to the rest of her body just as quickly. 

"I-I-I...." Rasplin could think of nothing else to say as his mouth went dry. He took a trembling step back, nearly tripping over his tail in the process. 

Mina's pelt became black to match his. Wounds began to sprout deep within her fur as if Rasplin had scratched deep gashes there. Blood seeped from her fur while Mina stood rigid and unflinching. 

Suddenly, Meadowslip snapped into sitting position. Her eyes had been scorched out to match her daughter's while a long gash from her throat down to her underbelly laid exposed. It was so deep that part of her intensities could be seen seeping from her body, pooling on the ground without Meadowslip so much as flinching. Black fur began to take over until it overwhelmed her normally white and silver pelt. 

"Meadowslip? Mina?" Rasplin stumbles backwards, haunches going limp from under him, front paws struggling to hold his weight while dragging him away from the two she-wolves. 

"You killed us," they chorused. 

Rasplin's head shook, swiveling around frantically. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered, choking on air. "I didn't mean to. I would've given anything to save you!" 

"Then why did we have to die for all of your mistakes? You don't deserve us," they continued, taking a step forward identically. 

Rasplin couldn't bring himself to strike out at his mate and daughter. He could only fall forward, muzzle twisted into the ground, peering up at the she-wolf that he had once told that he would protect until the ends of time. 

Meadowslip shot out a paw, sinking her claws into the muscular flesh wound over Rasplin's shoulder. Rasplin grunted while Meadowslip raked her claws in deeper until she had made four identical gashes, each one spilling more of his blood onto the forest floor. 

"Then you will feel what it's like," Meadowslip hissed in his ear. Her muzzle struck out, teeth sinking into the underside of Rasplin's neck. The life giving artery pulsed against Meadowslip's cheek while she gnawed and shifted until she was in the opportune position. 

Mina giggled behind her mother, rearing in her hind legs. "Kill him! Kill him!"

‘No,’ Rasplin thought. 'Mina would never say that. That's not my daughter.’

Meadowslip tightened down, teeth nicking his carotid artery to allow him to bleed out onto the soft, green grass.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rasplin awoke with a start, bolting upright. His breath came in ragged pants that tightened at his chest and crushed his lungs. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and remember that he was in Dean's room, on Dean's bed, with Sam. 

Despite the thrashing that Rasplin was sure he had been doing, the hunter was still sound asleep. His face crumpled in pain every couple moments, but it didn't last long as Sam was plunged back into quiet slumber. 

"Great StarBound," Rasplin whispered in the darkness. His throat felt tight in alarm, fur slick with sweat, pupils dilating, and senses on high alert. 

"Not real. Not real. Not real." Rasplin repeated the short phrase over and over in an attempt to soothe himself. Meadowslip had used to sit up with him, whispering the same phrase into his ear to lull him to sleep. However, when Rasplin tried to close his eyes, all he could see was hollowed out eyes and cobalt fur. 

Just when Rasplin was about to attempt to fall back asleep, he heard a pained cry from down the hall. It was faint, barely louder than a whisper, but Rasplin knew who it had to be. 

He dug his claws into the soft blankets, willing himself to move. Finally, the claws of fear that had gripped his spasming muscles retreated, allowing Rasplin to jump down from the bed. 

He landed unsteadily, nearly sprawling out onto the floor with his hind legs buckling under his weight. Forcing composure, Rasplin straightened and romped out of the den, allowing each pawstep to surely touch the ground to force the apprehension from his body. It was just a nightmare. It didn't deserve this much attention.

Poking his nose from the room, Rasplin forced the rest of his body to comply. The hallway was dark while deep rumbling sounded behind the walls. Dean had explained to Rasplin that it was just the air conditioning or heat that became rowdy when used. It had been a while since anyone had lived in the bunker and it was still getting used to being inhabited again.

A couple thumps and rumbles weren't about to startle Rasplin. He shoved his ears forward, angled in opposite directions, while he lumbered forward. Rasplin didn't attempt to keep his pawsteps quiet while lingering thoughts about his dream made his movements less controlled. His thoughts continued to race, feelings of abandon plaguing his soul. Shadows and whispers played with his senses, urging Rasplin to turn and head the other way. Rasplin fought his own darkened thoughts with a growl threatening to tear from his chest.

Finally, Rasplin reached Sam's room. The door was fully closed, but not locked. Rasplin bucked back on his hind legs, front right paw fumbling to turn the knob. He did so rather easily, falling back down to all fours. He peered inside to find Dean's freckled face illuminated by a lamp on an end table right beside his bed. Rasplin had no idea how Dean could possibly sleep with that bright of a light on, but Rasplin wasn't one to judge. 

The former Hellhound crept forward. He halted when he arrived at the side of Dean's bed. Dean was laying on his side on top of the covers and sheets. His arms were crossed over him in a feeble hug, his knees pulled into his chest in an almost fetal position. Sweat soaked through his shirt, patches of dampness showing on his chest and under his arms. His lips were parted, hair wild and unruly, sticking up in sectioned tufts. The necklace that he always wore around his neck was clasped tightly in a fisted hand, pulling the twine against his skin. Frown lines were drawn on Dean's face, brow scrunched and jaw set. Small whimpers and groans left Dean's mouth, signaling the type of anguish he was mentally in.

Rasplin stretched out his neck to touch his moist nose to Dean's cheek. He could feel warmth rising from him, but this was different from a fever. This particular warmth came from exertion that was only used during periods of extreme exercise. If Dean was putting off this much body heat by laying in bed, Rasplin knew that couldn't be a good thing. 

He let out a low whine in an attempt not to frighten Dean awake. He pushed back the thoughts of what Dean had said to him the last time they had spoke a few hours ago. None of that mattered right now. Rasplin had to help Dean.

His whine turned into an almost whimper as he stretched his body upward. He lifted a large paw, placing it gingerly over Dean's hand. He attempted to pull the hand away from his neck long enough for Rasplin to make sure he hadn't inflicted any pain upon him self. Rasplin had observed plenty of Wolvys in this much mental pain to physically injure themselves in the entanglement of a nightmare. 

"Dean," Rasplin rumbled, voice low and gravely in the glowing orange light. He continued to rub his rough pads over the back of Dean's hand, claws gingerly curling around his fingers. "Dean, you must wake up."

Dean's whimpers morphed into a string of words. Rasplin had to focus intently on each word to make it out.

"Ngl, Sammy. Sam? S-Sammy.......don't......leave. Sam!"

Rasplin's heart stalled in his chest, realization weighing on his shoulders.

Dean wasn't crying out for something that had already happened. He was crying out for something that could happen.


	13. Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You alright," Rasplin questioned.
> 
> Dean pushed his elbow against Rasplin's chest to force him back. Rasplin sat down, tail sticking out straight behind him. His gaze patiently watched Dean sit up, wincing with each movement. "M'fine."

Rasplin continued to paw at Dean's curled fist until Dean's dewy green eyes slowly began to open. They fluttered until focusing on the crimson blood gaze in front of him. "R'splin?"

"Close enough," Rasplin decided. He extended his neck forward, flicking his muzzle to brush it across Dean's cheek to feel if his temperature had lowered at all. 

Dean was still warmer than Rasplin would like while his chest pattered like a rabbit's trapped in a cage. There was no doubt in Rasplin's mind that Dean felt worse than he would let on, even if Rasplin asked him directly. 

"You alright," Rasplin questioned.

Dean pushed his elbow against Rasplin's chest to force him back. Rasplin sat down, tail sticking out straight behind him. His gaze patiently watched Dean sit up, wincing with each movement. "M'fine." 

"Lying to me won't get you anywhere, Dean," Rasplin reminded him with a fierce nod. 

"You wouldn't know." Dean rubbed an open palm against the corner of his mouth, moping up a line of drool that had dribbled from his mouth in his sleep.

Rasplin cocked his head to the side. "I can smell the difference between a truth and a lie," he pointed out.

"Really? Let's just add that to the number of skills we can find creepy," Dean muttered, attempting to flatten down his unruly tufts of brown hair. 

Rasplin let out a deep breath. "I suppose it's better than being told to fuck off."

Dean flinched at the reminder of what he had said to Rasplin. Shoulder slumping, Dean shifted over to pat the vacant space beside him. "I'm an asshole who doesn't always think about what he says. I'm sorry."

It was hardly an apology in Rasplin's eyes. He had also told his daughter that an apology only counted if you looked the one you had hurt in the eye and were genuine about it. Clearly Dean hadn't been taught this same lesson. However, Rasplin wouldn't hold it against him, at least not at the moment. 

"It's alright," he muttered, debating on wether or not to accept Dean's invitation to jump on the bed. "I've been told worse."

Dean snorted in amusement. "You've been told worse than to fuck off?"

"Unfortunately, yes. You forget that I was raised by other Hellhounds and by one particular Hellhound that would've rejoiced if my brother and I would've dropped dead." Rasplin wiggled his haunches before leaping onto the bed beside Dean. 

Dean scowled. "Yeah, my old man wasn't puppies and hugs either. I worshiped the guy, but the older I got—" Dean yawned noisily. "—the more I know he was just a son of a bitch that was stuck with two kids he didn't know how to raise. I guess I can't blame him for it or anything. That's more Sammy's department." 

Rasplin felt an itch climb his spine. His head shot around, snapping his spine between his teeth to dig his teeth into the offending spot. "My father would beat my brother and I just because he could. He always said it was to make us tougher Wolvys. I suppose he succeeded. We've both took more souls to Hell than he did by the time we were a quarter of his age. I guess whether or not we wanted to, we became what our fathers wanted." 

"Don't remind me." Dean ran his fingers lightly against the back of his neck until goosebumps stretched across his arms. "So, how much of that were you here for?"

Rasplin shrugged, finally crushing the itch between his teeth. He rasped his tongue over the patch of fur he had gnawed at, swiveling his neck around to face Dean. "Enough," he replied simply.

"And what were you doing awake?" 

"I was watching over your brother."

Dean blinked his eyes twice in confusion. "Watching over him? Like while he slept?" 

"Just to make sure he didn't have any side effects from my herbs," Rasplin added quickly, a hint of fierceness in his voice.

Dean didn't believe for a moment that Rasplin had only kept a watch over Sam because of what he had fed him. Whether Rasplin admitted it or not, Dean could tell that he had a concern for Sam just as Dean did. Not many other people that he knew would've dropped everything that they were doing to help Sam. Dean inwardly berated himself for how he had spoken to Rasplin earlier. Even if Rasplin had shut him out like that, Dean didn't have to fight venom with venom. 

"And was he alright?" Steering Rasplin away from why he had watched over him seemed to be the best option to Dean.

Rasplin rested his head on the bed, feeling the softness of the comforter brush against his fur. "More or less," he murmured tiredly.   
  
"And what time is it now?"

Rasplin stretched his jaw wide in a yawn, tongue curling out from his mouth. "Hmmm, almost 3;30 in the morning, I believe."

Dean yawned once Rasplin did, back of his hand raised to his mouth to contain it. "Seems about right. At least I got my four hours." 

Rasplin had often heard Sam and Dean point out that if they got four hours of sleep a night, that would suffice. It seemed even passable for it to be four hours every couple nights. Rasplin wasn't one to lecture about the importance of sleep when he himself would go days without rest if the need arose. 

"You were crying in your sleep," Rasplin told Dean just when a comfortable silence began to spread between them. 

Dean gnawed on the skin in the corner of his cheek. His fingers sprawled against his knee, gripping the denim of his jeans roughly. "It was nothing." 

"You were dreaming about Sam," continued Rasplin as if Dean hadn't spoken. "I thought that you were dreaming of Hell, but you were crying out for your brother. You're scared to lose him, aren't you?" 

Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed in one swift motion. "I'm not having this conversation with you." His skin was beginning to prickle uneasily thanks to the sticky sweat that clung to his body. He walked over to his dresser to fling a drawer open to find another shirt. 

"Now who doesn't want help," Rasplin flashed before he could stop himself. There wasn't nearly as much determination in his voice, but the message was still clear. His head lifted from his paws, eyes trailing in Dean's direction. "You can't even fathom living without him, can you?"

Dean shrugged out of his flannel before pulling his sweat undershirt over his head. Healed scars, ballet wounds, and stab wounds showed on the curve of his shoulders and down his muscular back. "Shut up." He pulled on another shirt, running his fingers through his hair to force it down. 

"You can't keep doing this, Dean. Sometimes dead is better," Rasplin pointed out. "You can't keep bringing each other back and making deals. This is what got you into trouble in the first place." 

"No, this is what got you involved in the first place." Dean spun around, marching up to lean over his footboard so that he was almost nose to nose with Rasplin. "You have no idea what I'm feeling or thinking."

"You think I can't?" Rasplin's eyes bore into Dean's. He found his soul and could feel feelings of grief, abandonment, resentment, hopelessness, sorrow, and despair radiating from it. "I know you, Dean. I know how you feel about your brother, but you have to let him go when the time comes." 

Dean grasped the footboard so tightly that his knuckled turned white. "You can't possibly know how this feels," he snarled.

Rasplin stood with his chin lifted so that he now nearly towered over Dean. "I lost my mate and my daughter, everything that I had ever loved! You think that I wouldn't have given anything to get them back, even my own life! But, who am I to do that? My life may be painful because they're not with me, but I know that they're somewhere much better than StarBound. One day I will be with them again. Until then I will need to keep going one day at a time. What else can I do?" 

Dean released the footboard, fingers vibrating from the force he had used on the metal. "I can't loose him, Rasplin," he choked out. "I just can't."

Rasplin's gaze softened. "I didn't say that it would be easy. If you keep bringing back Sam or he keeps bringing you back, it's a cycle that will only end in more heartbreak. You don't have to listen to me; why would you?" The black furred Wolvy pushed his shoulders up toward his ears, preparing to leap down from Dean's bed and find somewhere else to sleep for the night where he was still tolerated. Perhaps the garage would be a pleasant place to sleep with the draft reminding him of his nest in StarBound.

Dean stepped up to block Rasplin's escape. "Wait, you idiot. I was the one that wanted you to stay the night and I'm not going to going to thank you for that by making you sleep on the floor." 

Eyes slightly widening, Rasplin sat back on his haunches to watch Dean climb into the bed beside him. He pressed two fingers against Rasplin's shoulder to force him over until Dean was laying on his side. Rasplin laid right in front of him, barely moving, wondering what Dean was about to do next.

To Rasplin's surprise, Dean lifted his hand and rested it on top of Rasplin's head. His hand slid down the back of his neck, halting at his shoulders, before bring brought back up to repeat the process. Rasplin's initial instincts told him to rip away from Dean and cower in the opposite corner, warning him away with a snap of his jaws if he came too close. 

A gentle, reassuring voice in Rasplin's ear caused him to halter. 'Sometimes the best thing you can do is let someone else be beside you'. 

Rasplin forced his fur to lay flat while Dean's fingers curled and stretched into the former Hellhound's wiry pelt. 

'Alright, Meadowslip', Rasplin thought, relaxing into Dean's grip. 'I'll take your word for it. If having Dean touch my fur is going to make him feel better, then I'll let him'. 

"At least you'll always be here, Rasplin," Dean mumbled, half asleep. 

Rasplin snorted in distain. "I wouldn't be so sure about that." If Rasplin had learned something recently, it was that he wasn't invincible. Pangs of hunger and even some wounds hit him differently now. He may have something to fight for, but that didn't make the bone crushing pain that he had ignored for so long just fade into nothingness. 

Suddenly, Dean's entire body came crashing down on Rasplin. He swallowed a yelp as Dean's arm wrapped around him like a vice, pulling him against his chest to hold him close. Dean pressed his chin against the back of Rasplin's shoulder, breathing softly into his fur, stirring it ever so slightly. He snuggled as close as he could to Rasplin's body as possible, body beginning to relax until his breathing turned deeper and tiny snores left him. 

Rasplin didn't dare move. He didn't want to risk anything that may wake Dean up, despite that Rasplin was sure he couldn't get to sleep himself with the macho hunter wrapped around him. His muscular arms threatened to choke Rasplin, making him feel claustrophobic at best. He wasn't some stuffed animal that Dean could hold to get a better night's sleep. He was a warrior! 

However, one listen to Dean without tears rolling down his face from the nightmares or without crying out for his brother told Rasplin all he needed to know. 

Rasplin closed his eyes, ignoring the prickling feeling running down his body like fire ants burrowing through his skin. It wasn't comfortable in the slightest for him, yet if that's what it took to give Dean a good night's sleep after everything that he had been through, Rasplin would allow it. It had been years since he had slept with anyone at his side, and if he was being honest, he may not had been as disgusted by the idea as he originally expected.


	14. Lock Them All Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Thank you. I appreciate that and I will keep your offer in mind." He tipped his head upward to hold Sam's and Dean's gaze. "You close the gates of Hell and anything else that you can. We weren't meant to tangle with humans."
> 
> "We?" Dean's brow furrowed, a question clear on his features.
> 
> Rasplin nodded. "Hellhounds, Wolvys, demons, angels. We weren't meant to ever have contact with you to begin with and it has only escalated. If you have the chance to slam all the doors closed on all of us, you take that chance. Do you understand me," he asked sternly. 
> 
> "We understand," Sam replied, clearing his throat with a gentle cough. "But, that would mean locking you away too."

Dean awoke later the next morning to the sound of clicking. It took his sluggish brain a moment to realize that the sound he had just heard was that of a camera. His eyes blinked quickly, taking in that someone was standing in the doorway, a long shadow stretching in front of the bed. 

"Cas is going to die when he see this."

"Sam," Dean growled harshly before realizing how he was laying. He had one leg draped around Rasplin’s midsection, both of his arms looped around Rasplin's shoulders. The Wolvy's head had been rested against his chest, soft breath billowing from his nose. 

His younger brother snickered as he leaned against the doorway, hand cupped around his mouth to contain the laugher threatening to bubble to the surface. "Oh man. This is blackmail material right here." Sam wiggled his phone in front of him with the picture of Dean cuddling Rasplin on the screen.

"You delete that right now." Dean pulled himself from Rasplin harshly, jostling the Wolvy awake. Dean pushed off from his bed and pelted after Sam. The younger Winchester didn't hesitate to dart down the hallway with Dean following, pummeling his fist in the air as he shouted for Sam. 

Rasplin woke up slowly, allowing warmth to continue to seep back into his muscles. His jaws stretched wide in a massive yawn while he worked himself into standing position. He bowed forward, joints straining to keep himself from toppling over. The sound of screeches from the kitchen barely fazed him for he now knew how Dean and Sam were. 

At least Sam was well enough to want to give his brother grief. That was a step in the right direction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Dean had grabbed Sam's phone and promptly deleted the twelve—yes twelve—pictures Sam had taken of Dean cuddling Rasplin, he finally let his brother catch his breath. He warned that this was going to start another prank war, especially with Sam feeling much better, but Sam had waved him off good-naturally. 

Rasplin had joined them in the kitchen a short time later, eyes flickering in amusement. He could see himself and Harvey reflected in Sam and Dean, rushing around and jeering at one another fondly. They hadn't been able to feel that way about each other in years—give or take the time that Harvey had helped him with Sam, Dean, and Castiel. That had more been for mutual benefit than anything else, at least in Rasplin's eyes. 

"Eggs and bacon good for everyone," panted Dean, leaning against the swung open door of the fridge, allowing the chilled air to cool him off.

Rasplin shuffled his paws distractedly. "I should get going," he murmured.

"Alright," Sam replied, head tilted longingly. 

Dean spun around, closing the fridge behind him. He rushed up to Sam's side, elbowing hard in the side. "That's because of the picture you took, bitch!"

"Jerk!"  
  
Rasplin waved off their argument with a bored shake of his head. "It had nothing to do with that. I fear that I have somethings that I have to attend to in StarBound," he confessed. 

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance, debating whether or not to persuade the thick furred Wolvy to stay. 

"You sure," Sam asked awkwardly. "Because we could really use you here. You could patch us up and help us shut the gates of Hell once and for all." 

"I have no doubt that you will do that fine on your own," murmured Rasplin, meeting Sam's rounded pools of emotion like saucers on his face. Concentrating hard, Rasplin could see the state of Sam's soul. It wasn't nearly as emotionally scared as Dean's, not quite, but there were certain wounds that should never have been able to penetrate a soul, telling Rasplin that the wing oil and StarPool water may have helped Sam physically for the time being, yet it wouldn't be long before these Trails would catch up with him. 

It took one look at the determination in Rasplin's eyes to tell Sam all he needed to know. He nodded slowly, reaching out a hand to gingerly run his fingers against the Wolvy's well-toned shoulder. "Thanks, Rasplin, for everything," he whispered. Nothing he said would ever convey the appreciation he had for all Rasplin had done for him. 

Rasplin reached out his neck to brush his muzzle against Sam's hand. Sam traced his hand to the top of Rasplin's head, brushing his fur down his neck in the process. 

Sam scooted back to allow Dean to take his place. "We really owe you one, Rasplin."

"One," echoed Rasplin, eyes dancing in mischief. 

Dean elbowed Rasplin softly against the shoulder, sending him staggering. "Okay, maybe more than one." He cleared his throat, looking back to Sam uncomfortably to find his brother still watching them intently. "And about last night, I really...didn't....think um......"

Rasplin rolled his eyes. "You don't have to explain. Although, I would suggest finding someone else in the future, like a certain angel or something."

Dean punched Rasplin's shoulder ever so slightly. "Alright, smart guy. Don't make me chain you up in the dungeon or something."

"You guys have a dungeon here? What doesn't this place have," Rasplin chuckled. 

"A porch." Dean rubbed the back of his neck, shoulders rolling uncomfortably. "We actually don't have a porch, but that's probably since we're underground for the most part.”

Sam broke in before Dean could make this no more uncomfortable. "I think that Dean means is that we appreciate everything you've done for us and you're always welcome back," he explained, shooting his brother an amused and irritated look at the same time. 

Dean pointed reverently in Sam's direction, head bobbing in agreement. "Yep, that's totally what I meant."

"Thank you. I appreciate that and I will keep your offer in mind." He tipped his head upward to hold Sam's and Dean's gaze. "You close the gates of Hell and anything else that you can. We weren't meant to tangle with humans."

"We?" Dean's brow furrowed, a question clear on his features.

Rasplin nodded. "Hellhounds, Wolvys, demons, angels. We weren't meant to ever have contact with you to begin with and it has only escalated. If you have the chance to slam all the doors closed on all of us, you take that chance. Do you understand me," he asked sternly. 

"We understand," Sam replied, clearing his throat with a gentle cough. "But, that would mean locking you away too."

"And that may be for the best. If I can get to you, that means that Sholaster can or any other Hellhound can find you." Rasplin felt a flash of protectiveness for the brothers settle deep within in his bones. "I'll keep anyone off your tracks for as long as I can, but you'll have to do this discretely as possible. Killing a Hellhound sent a ripple through StarFire, one that you may not be able to stop. You must be careful."

Dean ran blunt nails over a scab on his elbow. Rasplin's warnings were always justified and had led them away from danger. Something told Dean that this was the same. 

"We will, thanks to you," Dean whispered, hand lifted to rub at the corner of his left eye. "We won't forget this, Rasplin."

"Call if you need anything else and may StarBound always shine down on you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that read this story and I hope you are all staying safe and healthy!


End file.
